Fate
by Princepen
Summary: So, I had posted this multi-part story a few years ago, and I am re-posting it as one story with many chapters, hoping it will make it easier to read. In the process I had to delete everyone's very kind reviews; sorry about that! Synopsis is this story shifts time periods, but mostly takes place during the pre-Enterprise days. Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek, I don't.**

**"Fate" **

2367

Picard set his cup of tea down carefully upon the coffee table. He looked up at Beverly Crusher with a rare expression of uncertainty. She frowned as she sipped out of her own cup. "Jean-Luc, what's wrong?"

He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know," he said quietly, and stood up. He felt an old but familiar discomfort shadow through him, and then a cold feeling seemed to enter his soul. He turned back to Beverly, again with the odd expression. Somehow a typical Saturday morning breakfast had turned into an uncomfortable situation and she had no explanation why.

He started toward the door as if intensely focused and then turned back to regard her seriously. "Beverly, do you believe in fate?" Her eyes widened slightly taken by surprise.

"What do you mean? Jean-Luc, are you alright?"

"Please, just answer the question," he said sounding as though he was depending on the answer.

She stood up and looked at him squarely. "Yes," she said simply.

He nodded. "Then come with me and bring your med kit," he said stepping out the door of her quarters without another word. Alarmed, Beverly cursed under her breath and ran to her desk where a spare med kit lay and picked it up and rushed after Picard.

She had no idea where they were going at first, but was surprised to find that he had led her to Ten Forward. If he hadn't been so focused and serious, she would have asked him again what the hell was going on. When they stepped inside Ten Forward Picard hesitated and then headed straight for the bar. Guinan, notably, was absent from her usual stance behind the bar, but this did not slow Picard down. He simply went around in back of the bar, and then motioned for Crusher to follow him before crouching down.

Beverly ran around to meet him, and felt her heart skip several beats. How he had known, she had no idea, but there on the floor, motionless, lay Guinan. She moved Picard out of the way, and began checking Guinan's vital signs. She glanced at Picard, who was looking away, but to her shock she saw that he was silently crying, something she could not recall ever seeing him do in all the time they'd known each other. The only exception to this had been a few months ago when he and Ambassador Sarek had undergone a mind-meld and Picard had been overwhelmed by the strength of the Vulcan's tortured emotions.

She looked up at him. "Jean-Luc, Guinan appears to be in some kind of coma. I'm sorry, but she's unresponsive." She hit her communicator. "Medical emergency! Three to beam to Sick bay!"

2265

When they arrived at her home world she had been away for reasons that had no importance now. What mattered was that she was away when Tyrian her youngest child at only thirteen years old had been taken along with thousands of others. Tyrian was her youngest and last child. Thirteen years old was only a moment compared to the life he should have had, that all El Aurians could have expected to have. That is, until the Borg arrived. After that, everything had changed. Those of her other children who survived the Borg attack, were grown, many of whom were already hundreds of years old with families of their own. But Tyrian would never see any of them again, and not because he was killed. Killing Tyrian would have been too merciful for the Borg. Instead, her sensitive, inquisitive young child was stolen away from her and "assimilated" as the Borg had termed this horror. Afterwards she floated through the galaxy as a refugee, with less than one hundred others. The rest of the El-Aurians were spread throughout the universe and eventually she had left to be on her own.

Eventually Guinan had landed at a Klingon outpost, and purchased her own small ship. She knew that her story of her son's disappearance had persuaded the Klingon trader to sell her the banged up ship at a much-reduced price. By that time, she had two things on her mind; revenge, and the desire to find her son. But as soon as the Borg had departed in their cube-shaped spacecraft, the trail had gone cold. For no one she spoke to had ever heard of such an alien race, and many, it seemed, looked at her as though she were crazy. At a Federation Starbase, she used the library for days, and still found no trace of a race called "Borg" as they had referred to themselves. She began to believe that she would have to wait until the Borg swallowed up another planet and its inhabitants before someone would listen to her. Eventually, most of the murderous rage had left her, and she had resolved to wait. She was already nearly 400 years old, and she knew patience. She would simply wait until the Borg resurfaced before exacting her vengeance.

2318 The continuum

"Hello Q", Q said by way of greeting.

"Hello," replied Q warily.

"How is your little project going?"

"Actually, Q, I'm glad you asked," said Q haughtily. "I've located a candidate who will be suitable for my test for humanity."

"Really," said Q, with mild curiosity. "And why, again are the humans of any interest to the Q, or in particular, you Q? They haven't done anything of note, as far as I can see, and like you I can see very far."

"I find them…amusing," said Q, not willing to disclose all of its reasons just yet. "And I expect that this human will prove my point."  
"And what is that?"

"That humans are worth our…further study, if not yet our respect," answered Q as if it should be obvious. And really, it should have been since after all Q was talking to a Q.

"Well, when do you intend to administer this test? The other Q are awaiting the results."

Q did its best to convey annoyance. "Unfortunately these humans develop quite slowly, and this one is not nearly ready. In fact, he is not quite past what humans call, the "crawling" stage, as he is only 10 months old."

"'He'?" said Q.

Q smiled. "Yes. Humans have not yet moved beyond the concept of gender, and this one is male. I agree it is a bit primitive."

Q sighed. "When will this human be ready?"

"In about 47 Earth years" replied Q.

"My, that is rather slow progress. Well, keep us apprised of your progress, Q."

"Certainly Q," said Q.

* * *

**2327**

She had been drifting for months on autopilot, with little purpose. She had even questioned why she had started this quest in the first place. It had been over 60 years since she began her seemingly futile quest to find the Borg; those faceless creatures which had within the space of a week all but eliminated her race and stolen her son from her. Wherever the Borg were, they would have to be somewhere beyond the outer rim. She had strayed even into Romulan territory, which was a big risk, but risk meant little to her now. Her banged up ship simply didn't have what it took to continue at this pace.

"Are you beginning to question your decision to come out here?" A voice drifted through the cabin of her ship. She turned to look but saw nothing. She wasn't surprised. It wasn't uncommon for people who had lived in isolation for years to hear voices, or to even carry on conversations with themselves. Perhaps she was losing her mind. Maybe a lack of sanity would help soften the blow of the reality she was finally coming to terms with: she would never find her son, alive, assimilated or even dead.

The voice came again, with more insistence. It sounded very self-important. "I was wondering when you would realize what a futile endeavor this was. Revenge is never the answer you know." Suddenly with a quick white flash of light, another being was standing behind her. She stood up in alarm. He appeared to be an El-Aurian, like her, but lighter skinned. But she didn't recognize him, and she knew the few remaining in her species. In addition, he did not possess the same empathic presence as an El-Aurian, although she sensed great power. He may have also been human; he was certainly pompous enough. Had he transported here from a nearby ship? Because she sensed no immediate threat from the being, she sat back down in her seat still keeping her gaze fixed upon him. "What would you know about me or what I am doing?" she demanded.

The being smirked, and sat down on a metal cargo container. "What don't I know about you should be your question, for I am Q and possess knowledge far beyond that of yourself."

Guinan's eyes narrowed. She had heard of the Q Continuum, but did not ever think she would encounter one of them. Of course, having lived as long as she had, she'd seen many stranger things. The Q were known to some of the older races, and were not to be taken lightly. They possessed nearly unlimited power over whatever physical environment they found themselves in, and yet their knowledge was not unlimited. Like any species they had their limitations, although to a less evolved creature they would no doubt seem like deities. Whatever the reason Q was here, she now considered him- or more properly, it- a threat.

"Alright," said Guinan, calmly trying again. "What do you want with me?" Q smiled, pleased to be given the opportunity to explain.

"I've been watching you for 62 years now—"

"Wait, since when?" Guinan's eyes narrowed.

"Since the Borg conquered your planet, mutilated your son and took him away," Q replied simply. "Why you didn't realize the futility of your obsession back then, I will never know. But I find your…relentlessness fascinating, a trait that should be well suited for my latest project," it continued.

Guinan slowly stood to her feet and focused all of her energy on the arrogant being in front of her. The air seemed to crackle around them, and Q displayed a surprised expression that she guessed was probably very rare for it. "Where exactly were you when the Borg attacked my planet?" She asked slowly for clarification.

"Without making this too complex for you to understand, I was…there. Is that what you want to know? Yes, I was present when the Borg attacked."  
"And you did nothing to stop them," she observed, her hands curling and uncurling themselves into fists at her sides almost absent-mindedly. "Even though," she continued, staring at Q unblinkingly, "you have the power to do virtually anything you choose to do."

Q shrugged, but before it was able to open his mouth to snidely respond, it saw Guinan's hands thrust out in front of her like claws, and felt its body being thrown with considerable force through the bulkhead and into space. It's adopted physical form of course expired quickly even before exiting the ship, unable to withstand the impact. As Q transformed back into its normal physical form, one which could easily exist in a vacuum, Q considered its choice of the El-Aurian for its project. El-Aurians, never a prolific race, now numbered less than one hundred beings, as a result of the Borg attack in 2265. The El-Aurians possessed undefined but very real telekinetic powers, along with strong empathic senses. It certainly had not been the El-Aurian's empathy that had thrown Q through the side of her ship so ferociously. Thus although they resembled a typically un-evolved humanoid species, they possessed considerable brain power, possibly due in part to their long life spans.

Guinan settled back in her chair having raised her ship's shields to temporarily seal the hull breach. Her hands moved quickly over the ships control panel. The ship's cockpit and cargo bay were now bathed in yellow blinking light. She had been around long enough to know that she had not killed the Q, but she had been at that moment unable to mask the rage she felt toward the being, which is why she had exhibited powers rarely needed or used in decades. She also hoped it would think twice before re-entering the sanctum of her ship without invitation. She was wrong.

Q's disembodied voice again floated at her, although this time it seemed slightly less snide. She also noted that the hull breach had been repaired, as though nothing of consequence had happened. "Before you try to kill me again, I have a proposition for you," it offered.

Guinan turned in her seat to look toward the glowing ball of light that now floated a few feet away from her. "Go on," she said. If this Q was so insistent on speaking with her that it didn't mind being thrown out into space, perhaps she should listen to what it had to say.

"I need you to keep an eye on someone for me. A human, actually."

"What is in it for me?"

The Q paused for dramatic effect. "To regain what you lost 62 years ago."

Guinan tried to search the Q's thoughts for an explanation but its mind was unreadable. "My son?"

"Well," said Q, "not quite."

"What's the catch?" she asked quietly. She folded her hands over her stomach, as Q began to explain.


	2. Chapter 2

2329 San Francisco

It was the 1600 meter final in the annual Youth Olympics in San Francisco, and at 12 years old he was the youngest to compete in the event in years. The other runners were between 14 and 16, and he was very aware that none of them wanted to get beaten by a 12 year old country boy. Jean-Luc Picard had almost missed the race, because no one in his immediate family had seen the importance of it. At least they hadn't understood just how important it was to him. His family might have been indifferent, but his hometown was not. Jean-Luc had been the youngest person in 50 years to represent France, and his hometown of Labarre had actually organized a parade for him before he even left. His brother Robert had been extremely dismayed at that, and didn't even try to hide his jealousy. Who could blame him? Even to Jean-Luc a parade for an unproven 12 year old seemed a little much. Still, the expectations he placed upon himself were even higher. His uncle Edmond, a commercial pilot, had been kind and perceptive enough to agree to fly Jean-Luc to the event in San Francisco, against his father's wishes, if necessary. But it hadn't come to that because finally his father had relented and allowed Jean-Luc to go, with the understanding that he would do his brother's chores the next day to make up for his day of "fun and games".

The last part of the race was for him always the best part. Instead of being exhausted he was energized for those last 400 meters. As he rounded the last turn for the final 100 meters, he jostled himself in between two 16 year old twin brothers who were each equally favored to win. He used his small size to skirt between them, before feeling a bony elbow jab into his ribs. He threw his own elbow back, and put on a burst of speed moving ahead. A foot came down on the back of his heel, and he faltered only slightly, steadying himself as he closed in on 50 meters. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the boy who'd stepped on his heel suddenly careen out of control and fall to the track in a heap, as the other runners leapt over him. There was no looking back, and even as the other twin increased his speed and moved up alongside Jean-Luc, he never doubted that he would win. And so he did.

After the race was over, but before the medal ceremony, Jean-Luc ducked under a tent at a water table to replenish. Almost immediately, as though he'd been lying in wait, the boy who had fallen on the track approached him with a sneer and clenched fists. Jean-Luc looked up at him and felt genuine embarrassment for the boy. But he also felt angry that the boy had tried to cheat by tripping him, and felt a certain level of satisfaction that he hadn't succeeded. Almost without thinking he said, "Didn't your mother ever teach you how to play fair?" Without warning, the boy punched Jean-Luc in the face, breaking his nose. Jean-Luc reeled backwards, but flung his foot out, deliberately catching the older boy square in the nuts. The boy let out a squeak and doubled-over, as Jean-Luc scrambled to his feet, fists raised, and face covered in blood. The boy was beginning to recover just as his twin brother (the second place finisher) and friends arrived. Jean-Luc felt his grin turn to a grimace, as he realized how outnumbered he was. Nevertheless he kept his defensive stance and faced them.

Then just as they were about to rush at him, a calm voice seemed to drift out of nowhere, and for some reason, the boys immediately dispersed. For an instant Jean-Luc felt time slow down as though he were frozen in place. The voice was still calmly speaking and suddenly a woman was standing before him. She appeared very old and yet her dark brown skin was as smooth as his. If she had hair, it was hidden underneath an immense hat.

She crouched down in order to look directly into his eyes. Somewhere he heard his uncle Edmond shouting his name, looking for him. She smiled. "You remind me of someone I loved very much," she said, looking at him as though she could see into his soul.

"Promise me one thing."

Jean-Luc's mouth hung open awkwardly. "What?"

"Promise me you will never stop fighting." The woman's eyes glittered with tears and he wondered why.

For some reason he felt compelled to agree. "I promise," he said softly. He felt a dizziness and the world seemed to shift under his feet. He shut his eyes tightly and when he opened them again, the strange woman was gone. Even more strangely, he found that he missed her.

2367

Picard sat at his friend's bedside with concern etched into his features. Guinan remained unconscious, and after two days of anticipation on his part, she still showed no signs of waking. He leaned in and took her limp hand in his, studying it and marveling at the lack of age that showed on her skin. Although he had no idea her exact age, he was aware that she was hundreds of years old. He could scarcely imagine the wonders and horrors she had seen during her lifetime. He prayed that such a unique life was not yet ready to be extinguished. He squeezed her hand and silently urged her to be strong. It occurred to him that he and Guinan had rarely touched physically in all of the years he had known her. It seemed irrelevant to their relationship, which was odd, considering the complex bond they shared. Perhaps neither of them liked to betray their emotions, and so it was easy for them to have an affection that involved little sentimentality. He lowered his head feeling exhaustion beginning to take hold of him. How long had he been sitting there? "Jean-Luc?" he started at the sound of his name being softly spoken. He turned to find Beverly Crusher and Counselor Troi standing in the doorway of Guinan's hospital room.

He pushed himself up, and heard his knees crack from stiffness. "Doctor, Counselor," he said, straightening his uniform.

Beverly was staring at him, studying him, and he knew at any moment she would order him to his quarters to sleep. He knew he must have looked worn down. He rubbed his hand over his jaw and felt considerable stubble. He hadn't shaved in several days. "Yes?" he said beginning to feel uncomfortable in the silence.

"Captain," began Troi. "I understand that you are concerned for Guinan, but you've been here for two days without sleeping."

He shook his head, "That's not true. I've been on Bridge duty for most of the last two days."

"Yes, and when you're off duty, you're here. And I haven't see you eat a thing," Crusher added sharply. "Do you really think you are going to help Guinan by allowing yourself to waste away, Captain?"

He turned back to look down at Guinan and muttered something almost to himself. He felt anger unexpectedly welling up in him.

Crusher had folded her arms over her chest. "I didn't hear your answer Captain," she prodded.

"I said nothing else seems to be helping her, goddammit!" He immediately regretted his outburst, as Crusher's eyes widened and she actually took a step back shocked by his tone.

"Captain, I assure you that I am doing all that I can for her," said Crusher, softening her previous argumentative tone somewhat. "Now my advice to you is that you go back to your quarters before the next shift and take a nap. When you wake up, please have some soup or something else light to eat. You're not doing Guinan or anyone else on this ship any good by wearing yourself down."

Picard fiddled with Guinan's blanket, pulling it up around her neck gently as Troi looked on with curiosity. Without another word, he moved past the two women and left the room.

Crusher looked at Troi searchingly. "Deanna, I know they are old friends, but even so…."

"Beverly, what I am sensing from Captain Picard is very strange. He literally feels as though he is losing part of himself. He is extremely vulnerable right now. I would say he is behaving almost as if he has himself been wounded. He seems to be experiencing an almost physical loss."

"Well, they obviously share some kind of bond that no one was really aware of," said Crusher. She hesitated. "Deanna, he knew that she was hurt even before we found her. In fact he led me to her in Ten Forward, as though he'd had a premonition."

"Or perhaps he somehow sensed when she fell ill. As you said, they have a rather mysterious relationship."

"Deanna, I saw him crying. He didn't even cry at Jack's funeral…"

"Does that bother you?"

She shook her head distractedly. "I don't know. I don't know what to think." She sighed. "I need to get back to monitoring my patient. I'll see you later?"

Deanna nodded, gave her friend a pat on the arm and left.


	3. Chapter 3

2338

Walker Keel was down on his luck. Barely thirty years old, he felt his career was already stalled. As if things couldn't be worse, his marriage was on the rocks. Currently he was in-between ships, and awaiting his next assignment. A Lt. Commander, he'd been "temporarily" posted on Tau Ceti III to wait until a ship became available. He'd now been on Tau Ceti, a trading port, for four months and was beginning to wonder if Starfleet had forgotten about him. His wife June certainly had. While they were briefly reunited on Earth, she'd discovered evidence of his most recent fling, and she had since refused to talk to him. The fact that she was on Earth, and he was on Tau Ceti did not help matters, and certainly did not bring them closer together.

When he walked in to the bar, he wasn't looking for trouble, but looking or not, he soon found some. At the bar sat a young man with closely cut brown hair. Like Walker, he was dressed in civilian clothes, but everything about him said Starfleet. "Good, finally someone I can relate to on this rock" he thought. He approached and sat down next to the man, waving the bartender over. "Get me a Saurian brandy," he said as roughly as possible. The bartender had seen Walker in the bar frequently drowning his sorrows, or laughing it up with the local miscreants, and was hardly fooled by the performance as he slapped the drink down in front of Walker. Walker glanced at the man next to him, sizing him up out of the corner of his eye. The man was young, in his early 20's perhaps, probably a cadet or an ensign, but was far from being fresh-faced. He possessed a natural air of confidence Walker had rarely seen on older command officers. He was not tall, but had a wiry athletic build. Walker could tell the young man knew Walker was looking at him, but he apparently chose to ignore Walker. Walker noticed that the man occasionally glanced back over his right shoulder to a back table, where a small lone figure sat at a table hidden by shadow.

Walker cleared his throat. "I haven't seen you in here before," he said casually. The man turned to regard him with a severe stare. "Does he think I'm trying to pick him up?" Walker thought with some amusement. "You're Starfleet, right? Waiting on your first assignment, I would guess."

The man fiddled with his drink. "Well, you're partially right, I am in Starfleet, I am waiting for an assignment, but it's hardly my first," he said shortly. He glanced back at the table in the corner again.

Walker shrugged. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend, it's just that you seem young. Walker Keel," he said extending his hand.

The man looked at him squarely, and shook his hand with a healthy grip. "Lieutenant Jean-Luc Picard…sir," he added with a small smile. Walker raised an eyebrow at that. Apparently, the young Lieutenant had been doing some guessing of his own.

Before Walker could think of anything further to say, both men turned as a commotion had begun behind them at the back of the bar. They quickly realized that the problem was a large Klingon, who was interrogating whomever Picard had been discreetly watching.

Walker watched as Picard got up as if compelled, and strode over to the Klingon. Walker protested, and grabbed for the young man's arm, but Picard shook him off and continued toward the Klingon. He tapped the Klingon on the shoulder. The Klingon whirled around to behold the puny human who had dared interrupt his tirade. "Ptah!" snarled the Klingon. Chin thrust upward belligerently, Picard stood his ground.

"Oh shit," said Walker under his breath still watching from a safe distance. If Picard had a chip on his shoulder he'd picked the wrong species to ask to knock it off. The Klingon was very likely to knock off the young man's head instead.

As the Klingon moved aside, Picard felt suddenly as though he were in a dream, just as he had ten years before. There behind the Klingon sitting calmly was the woman he'd encountered all of those years ago. Of course he had been watching her for the last hour, but only because he had a feeling he knew the figure in the shadows. But now faced with her again, he saw she was as real as she'd been that day when she had saved him from being beaten to a pulp by a group of bullies. He felt warmth spread through him as though he was greeting an old friend. She smiled and nodded at him and he nodded back.

Suddenly he felt himself raised roughly up in the air and tossed backward through the air like a wet rag. Lost in the moment, somehow he'd forgotten that he had just annoyed a Klingon; a mistake he vowed he would never make again as he crashed through chairs, slid across a table full of plates and glasses, and onto the floor. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw his new acquaintance, Walker Keel standing over him looking down. Something akin to admiration and amusement shone in the older man's eyes. His expression only made Jean-Luc more furious at his predicament. He sat up quickly, feeling broken glass crunch under his palm.

"You okay?" Walker asked taking in his new friend's appearance. Walker extended his hand for Picard to take. Picard was disheveled, had a few minor cuts and bruises, and looked even more determined than ever. He stood to his feet without a word, and pulled the bottom of his shirt down gruffly, in an apparent attempt to regain some of his dignity. Walker strained not to laugh and then became serious again as he noted the Klingon was shouting now, something about protecting his "goods" and her "interference".

"You're friend there is still in trouble," said Walker. Picard's friend spoke in low calm tones, when she spoke at all, which seemed to enrage the Klingon even more.

Before Walker could stop him, Picard walked back toward the Klingon, and stood with his arms folded over his chest. Walker swore again and moved behind Picard and slightly to his right in an attempt to get a clear line of sight to the angry Klingon who was now pounding the table. Walker grabbed a nearly empty pitcher of beer, drained the rest of it and then held it behind his back.

Picard glanced at the Klingon's giant feet and noted that he was wearing only thin shoes. He'd once been told that there was a reason that Klingons wore those giant boots with armored toes—the tops of their feet were very sensitive. Gritting his teeth, Picard tapped on the Klingon's shoulder again.

The Klingon turned around slowly this time and sneered, "Didn't get enough the first time, eh?"

"That's funny," said Picard in an even tone. "That is exactly what she said."

The Klingon was stymied for a moment. "Who?" he growled.

"Your sister," said Picard, with a smile, slamming his heel down mercilessly on the Klingon's foot. The Klingon howled in pain and rage, and as he bent over, Picard rammed his head into the Klingon's solar plexus, hearing a nasty crack. He knew better than to try and head butt a Klingon directly in the forehead. The Klingon was doubled over, but even as he tried to stand up, Walker Keel leapt out of nowhere and crashed the glass pitcher down over the back of the Klingon's neck. The Klingon slumped to the floor, apparently out cold.

"Get that trash out of here," shouted the barkeep, and two large bouncers came and dragged the unconscious Klingon from the bar.

Out of breath Picard turned to Walker. "Thanks," he said, delicately touching his forehead, where a large welt was forming where he had struck the Klingon. Walker clapped Picard on the back with a laugh. "I should be thanking you, Picard. This is the most excitement I've had since I landed on this rock." He glanced at the woman in the corner, who was now standing, but looked as calm as before the entire incident had taken place. Walker wondered who she was, and how she knew Picard, but he figured he would probably have to wait until later to get more details. He put his hand on Picard's shoulder. "I'm going to get a drink and try and steady my nerves a bit," he said and headed back to the bar.

"Could you order me a cup of tea?" Asked Picard as Walker was turning away.

"You're kidding right?" said Walker. This was continuing to be a very strange afternoon.

"No," said Picard seriously. "Earl Grey, and make sure it's hot this time. That bartender doesn't know what he's doing."

Picard turned back toward the woman who was regarding him carefully. They sat down across from each other at the table. The woman looked at him. "You've grown up," she remarked approvingly.

"But you on the other hand don't seem as if you have aged a single day since I last saw you years ago. Who are you?"

"My name is Guinan, and I know you, you're Jean-Luc Picard," she said softly. "I know you very well," she added.

He shook his head in confusion. "But…have you been following me?"

She smiled. "You could say that. Let's just say I've been looking out for you."

"I will never forget how you helped me all those years ago. But why?"

"Why not? We have a connection, haven't you noticed?"

Picard say back, and smoothed his hands over his short hair. "Yes," he admitted. "But I don't understand why. It almost feels as if I've known you…as long as I've known myself."

"Thank you, I'm flattered," she said. "And thank you for getting rid of Darok, at least for now."

Picard leaned forward, genuinely concerned. "You are obviously in some kind of trouble, Guinan. I'm due to ship out in a few days, but if I can help you in any way…"

"Picard, you already have helped me. But because you asked, I'll tell you that Darok is a trader. I'm also trader on occasion, but Darok is a trader of live cargo."

"What do you mean?" Asked Picard.

"I mean he ships and sells living beings throughout the galaxy. Simply put, he's a slaver. And he isn't at all happy that I set five of his captives free back while we were on Bactrus a few weeks ago. He followed my ship here, and well, the rest is history as they say."

Picard's young face hardened. "I can help you stop him," he said. "I'm in Starfleet and my ship is due here in three days. I will tell the Captain—"

"Picard, Darok will be long gone by then, and so will I. Besides, this isn't your fight, it's mine." Her face showed her appreciation but her voice made it clear that she would not allow him to get involved.

Picard nodded. "How will we…keep in touch?"

"We just will," she said simply. "Either I will find you, or you will find me."

Picard sighed. It was strange, but he felt as though he was about to say goodbye to a close family member he hadn't seen in years. Reluctantly he stood up to go.

"Now I have a question for you," she said seriously. He turned back, eyebrow raised questioningly. "How did you know he had a sister?"

At that they both laughed and suddenly he felt at ease. "Goodbye Guinan," he said. "Until we next meet."

Picard and Walker stepped out of the bar feeling exhilarated by the day's events. Their mutual glee turned quickly to anxiety as they noted that Darok the immense Klingon although still lying face down on the pavement, was stirring slightly, and groaning. Adding to both men's distress was the approach of another Klingon figure, although this one appeared slightly feminine.

As Picard and Keel stood frozen on the street, they realized that the approaching Klingon was indeed a female. "Wait a minute…" said Walker slowly. "Didn't you just insult this guy's sister? Could that be-"

"No idea," said Picard trying to appear casual. To say that the Klingon female was beautiful would have been a stretch, but she gave off a primal sexuality that was not lost on Picard, and frankly was quite attractive despite her menacing glare.

She swung her long hair aggressively to the side, and placed her hands on her hips as she halted in front of Picard and Keel. She stood half a head taller than Walker, who of course was considerably taller than Picard. Picard had to step back and lift his chin in order to meet her eyes, and knowing something of Klingon etiquette, he did not hesitate to do so. Picard could not help but notice a huge double-bladed knife strapped to the woman's right hip, and that unlike Darok, she wore giant steel-tipped boots. She regarded the two humans without the slightest bit of concern and then looked past them at Darok, who was groaning and moving with more life now. Glancing at Picard with an appraising look, she growled and stepped over to Darok, who was now shaking his head groggily and pushing himself up.

"I am Darai," the female Klingon growled. "And this is my brother Darok." She eyed Picard and Keel with intensity. "Who is responsible for humiliating my brother?" She demanded, moving her hand to rest on her knife. She now stood over Darok and glared at them.

Against his common sense, but again in keeping with what he knew of Klingon etiquette, Picard stepped slightly forward. "I am responsible," he said unapologetically. "My name is Picard."

Darai's eyes flashed with something slightly different than anger, as she regarded Picard. She licked her lips and flashed her sharp front teeth as she looked him up and down. Picard felt his guts drop slightly. Walker poked him in his back and whispered, "What are you doing? Apologize to her," he prompted. Picard shook his head slowly, knowing better than to follow Walker's advice. She was likely to try and kill him if he apologized.

Darai looked down at her brother again, and seeming to have made a quick decision, hauled off and kicked him in the forehead, instantly knocking him unconscious again. Picard and Keel looked on in surprise as she strolled back over to the two men. Walker noted that she was entirely ignoring him now and was intensely focused on his new friend, the young lieutenant. She reached out and grabbed Picard's shirt collar and pulled him closer.

"Any hu-man worthy of taking my brother's honor is worth a taste…" With that she leaned in and kissed Picard ferociously, biting his lip. When she pulled away, Picard's chin was covered in blood, which she then proceeded to lick off. Picard let out an angry growl, which seemed to entice Darai further. She let him go, then stepped back and nodded her head back toward the direction she had come in, and it was clear what she was offering. Walker watched in horror and fascination as his friend turned back to him, shrugged and then walked off with the Klingon.

Walker shook his head in astonishment, watching his friend disappear into the night. "To boldly go indeed…" he muttered to himself, and stepping over Darok's still body, walked back into the bar to think this one over.

End of Part I


	4. Chapter 4

**2367**

"Crusher to Picard," came the familiar voice. It snapped Picard out of the daze he had been in as he sat in his command chair. Riker, seated to his right, eyed the Captain with a curious expression.

"Picard here," he said. Riker noted that his voice sounded somewhat hopeful that Crusher was calling with good news.

"Captain, she's awake." Picard leapt up from his chair and without even a backwards glance at Riker, said "You have the Bridge, Number One," and nearly ran to the turbolift.

"What is her status Doctor?" said Picard striding in to Sickbay. His worried tone betrayed his stoic facade. Crusher turned to look at him before speaking. He still looked haggard from keeping vigil at Guinan's bedside for over a week now, but some of his color had returned. Crusher moved aside, to let Picard see his ailing friend.

"Alive for now," came a weak voice from the bed. Picard's eyebrows shot up and then he did something Crusher hadn't seen him do in some time. He grinned, and clasped Guinan's hand as she reached out. Her pallor was still gray, but she was awake.

Ignoring Crusher he knelt down beside Guinan. "I hoped that you would wake up, but to be honest, you had me scared that you wouldn't."

"I know", she said in a soft but steady tone. "I could hear you breathing, arguing with the Doctor and occasionally snoring at my bedside." Picard laughed and grasped her hand more tightly. He looked up hopefully at Crusher. "This is amazing. Did you know she'd recover this quickly after waking up?" Crusher looked away, and he could tell that she was reluctant to tell him something. He turned his attention back to Guinan.

"I'm sorry Captain, but I woke up for one reason and one reason only. To tell you that I am dying…."

He stood up, and let go of her hand. "What? You just woke up, surely that is a sign that you are improving. Why are you saying this?"

"Because I know it to be true," said Guinan, smiling up at him. "It's my time." Her eyes fluttered slightly and then she closed them. Picard rushed back to her and then turned an almost frightened look toward Beverly. She had never, ever seen him in this state before.

She placed a hand on his shoulder as she checked her instruments. "Jean-Luc, she is stable, but very weak. I know it seems incredible, but she is telling the truth. There is no discernible sign of disease and yet…all of her organs are shutting down one by one."

"How long does she have?" He demanded, standing up straight and tugging at his uniform top.

"I can't say. El-Aurian physiology is very similar to our own, but Starfleet is fairly unfamiliar with treatment of their diseases. Although they normally live for hundreds of years, their population is very small, and there hasn't been much chance for study." She studied him carefully. A moment ago he had been almost emotional at the sight of his friend. But now she could almost see the wall going up by the change in his posture and expression. "Jean-Luc, you have known Guinan for years. Were you ever aware of her having been exposed to anything—"

His eyes grew cold as he glared at Crusher. "Doctor, are you seriously asking me if I know if a five hundred year old being has ever been exposed to a disease? For her sake I hope you are able to come up with a more reliable theory," he said sharply, turning and exiting Sick Bay without another word.


	5. Chapter 5

**2345**

The idea to go camping in the hills outside of San Francisco had been Jack's idea, although she was glad to get out of the city for a few days. She did love the outdoors, and her relationship with Jack was still new enough that any different setting with him always seemed like an exciting adventure. Walker had brought along his latest girlfriend, with whom he was apparently already deeply in love with after just a few weeks together. No doubt, within a few more weeks they would be married, which was how Walker always operated-all or nothing. Even more surprising and intriguing, was that the illusive Jean-Luc Picard would also be joining them. Jack claimed to have worked for days to convince Picard to leave the Stargazer for a brief shore leave. Although Picard had finally agreed, Jack and Beverly hadn't seen him planet-side yet, and his whereabouts had been unknown although he had called and said he would meet them at the campsite.

Walker arrived with the usual drama, but his girlfriend Amanda was actually quite sweet and quiet, which made Beverly wonder how long the relationship could really be expected to last. Granted all of Walker's previous wives and girlfriends had been loud and brash, a bit like Walker, and those relationships had been doomed from the start. Perhaps Amanda had a chance after all. Walker had insisted on cooking the evening meal, and had brought tons of food, most of it meat, which Beverly noticed with distaste. She was used to a replicator, and didn't trust Walker's cooking. In any case they waited for a few hours, and when Picard still did not arrive, they ate, and despite the huge quantities of charred meat and little else but alcohol, it turned out to be very enjoyable.

They had gathered around the campfire Beverly had deftly started, and it had already grown dark by the time Picard arrived. They all looked up in greeting and a little surprise, as he had brought a date. "Oh boy," she heard Jack mutter under his breath. The young woman was attached like glue to Picard's arm as they entered the firelight.

Picard raised his hand casually, and said "Hello, I'm sorry to arrive so late. May we join you?"

Setting down her drink quickly, Beverly stood up to grab an extra chair for Picard's companion. "Hi," she said, taking in the woman's delicate features. She was quite young, with short blonde hair, and was very pretty. Beverly had only met Picard on two previous occasions, and had certainly never seen him with a romantic companion. Was this his type? She thought with amused curiosity. "Hi," said the woman, looking her up and down. "You're gorgeous. You look exactly as Jean-Luc described you."

A curious shiver went through her. "Is that so," was all she could come up with, sitting back down.

Picard sat down slowly and somewhat stiffly on a nearby tree trunk. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what his date's last name was. "Ah, everyone, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, this is Beverly Howard, Jack Crusher, Walker Keel, and…I'm sorry…" he trailed off awkwardly, forgetting the name of Walker's latest potential soul mate.

"Amanda Morris," said Amanda quietly with a smile. Picard smile back apologetically, but Walker gave him a severe glance.

"So, it sounds as though we interrupted quite a conversation," remarked Picard, shifting uncomfortably.

Walker grinned. "We were just talking about old times, Jean-Luc," said Walker, handing him a beer with a wink. Picard felt his insides turn over. Walker talking about "old times" invariably caused Jean-Luc some kind of embarrassment. He'd just met Cynthia a few days ago, and he knew nothing about her except her hotel room number. Well the truth was that he _had_ learned a number of other things about her already, but he'd learned it all while in her hotel room. In fact, he and Cynthia had scarcely left her room for about a day and consequently he was quite tired and stiff. The prospect of sleeping on the hard ground tonight was hardly enticing, but something had prevented him from canceling his appearance at the camping trip. He knew Jack would be disappointed, and he'd made the mistake of telling Cynthia about his friends, which had resulted in her inviting herself along, making canceling his plans even more difficult. Obviously they had hit it off, but as attractive as Cynthia was, he was not seeing much potential in a future relationship with her. Of course, he could always take a page from Walker's book and ask her to marry him within the next day or so.

"Ooh," cooed Cynthia. "Any good stories about Johnny?" She grabbed his knee affectionately, and he winced slightly, quickly reconsidering taking that page from Walker…

Beverly glanced at Jack who was silently laughing. "Johnny?" she mouthed with a raised eyebrow. She frowned slightly. Clearly Jack enjoyed seeing Picard squirm, but she wasn't sure how she felt about it yet.

"Actually, yes," said Walker, enthusiastic at the opening. "I was just thinking about the first time I met Jean-Luc, and how shortly afterward we met this Klingon woman who—"

"Walker," warned Picard with an uncomfortable smile. "Really Beverly and Cynthia don't want to hear…"

"I do" Cynthia and Beverly said at once, and then looked at each other in amusement. Jack laughed loudly at the expression on Beverly's face.

Walker didn't miss a beat. "Well, Jean-Luc couldn't have been more than 21, and he'd kind of insulted this huge Klingon in a bar on…"

"Tau Ceti III," said Jack helpfully, as though he'd heard the story many times, which of course he had.

"Well after the bar fight, he met this Klingon woman, who turned out to be the Klingon's sister…"

"And?" prompted Beverly sitting forward. "What happened?"

Walker looked at Picard sympathetically as though he was actually having second thoughts about embarrassing his friend, and then proceeded as planned. "I'll spare you the details—"

"I never gave you any damn details," protested Picard.

Walker shrugged, ignoring his friend. "Beverly, let's just say that the next time I saw him, three days had gone by, and the man could barely walk. I felt bad for him, but also envious."

Picard felt all eyes on him. Well he wasn't going to deny it. He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Klingon women are known to be very aggressive," he said in the most understated way he could. Really, he thought, these people wouldn't believe the true details even if he felt like sharing. It was Beverly's turn to laugh, but she at least threw a polite hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle it. Picard rolled his eyes and sat back. Cynthia wove her arm around his waist affectionately and he leaned in to her, glad he had at least one ally.

The story while somewhat embarrassing to Picard, had the effect of breaking the ice and Picard told several of his own stories, admitting to himself that he was glad he came. He made sure that Jack did not escape some mild indignity himself, although he went easy on him because of Beverly's presence. Beverly finished the evening with a particularly uproarious tale about Walker walking into the Starfleet infirmary with a snake bite on his ass during her first year of med school. Not able to finish a sentence without laughing, she revealed that she had been more concerned about getting off shift quickly so she wouldn't have to treat him, than about making sure he was alright.

Walker stared at her with mock outrage as she spoke. Picard noted that Beverly had the loveliest most cultured sounding voice, even as she talked about Walker Keel's behind, which was hardly his favorite topic. As she spoke he watched her mouth move in the firelight and felt almost mesmerized. She was positively glowing, and the flickering light only added to her beauty. She caught his eye at one point and smiled warmly. He smiled back, then felt a pang of shame as though he'd been caught in the act. As he shifted his eyes to find Walker staring at him, he realized that he had been.


	6. Chapter 6

That night Beverly and Jack made love, and then lay awake in their small tent listening to the crickets and enjoying the cool quiet of the night. They had just begun to doze off when Beverly heard Jack begin to laugh quietly. She nudged him. "What?" She whispered, not wanting to wake the other couples.

"Listen," he said still chuckling. They both grew still and gradually she thought she could hear moaning coming from one of the other tents. "They're at it again," said Jack in a louder voice.

"Shh!" said Beverly, realizing she felt embarrassed and that it seemed odd that she felt that way. "Seriously Bev, I don't think they can hear us…" Jack gazed at her serious expression in the dim light and felt the most wonderful feeling of love come over him.

"She's certainly very vocal," she commented after a moment. Then she felt herself begin to laugh as well. "Considering your friend's stuffy exterior I never would have imagined he had it in him."

"You know, I'd really rather not think of you imagining anything about my friend in that way," remarked Jack. Beverly heard a slight note of possessiveness in his tone. She felt him sit up restlessly next to her. "Besides," he added, "I've known him much longer than you, and this is not really abnormal for him. He meets someone, they hit it off and then it's over as though nothing of consequence ever happened." Jack lay back down and folded his hands behind his head thoughtfully. "You know, he criticizes Walker for falling in love at every turn, but at least Walker is trying to feel something real whereas it seems like Jean-Luc is constantly going through the motions when it comes to relationships. With Jean-Luc, everything is secondary to his career."

Beverly could hardly conceal her surprise. "Jack, since I met you I have never once heard you criticize Jean-Luc Picard. If you're trying to convince me that he's no catch, don't try so hard; you've got nothing to worry about. Jealousy doesn't suit you, you know," she added teasingly. The sounds from the adjacent tent had now ceased and again the crickets resumed.

Jack laughed, sounding relieved. "I'm not jealous," he protested, and then grew serious again. "But I am worried. I'm worried about him."

Beverly began tickling Jack almost viciously. "Now _I'm_ getting jealous. Which one of us do you really love anyway?" she laughed pulling him to her.

"You," he whispered, burying his face in her neck.


	7. Chapter 7

Picard had looked forward to a morning swim despite the chill in the air. The sun was still rising as he poked his head out of the tent and breathed in deeply. Seeing the coast was clear, he stepped out of the tent quietly, careful not to wake anyone. Cynthia, he had already learned, was an incredibly deep sleeper, which suited him fine. He didn't want any company he just wanted a refreshing dip in the nearby inlet. After all, when would he have a chance to do so while on a starship? As much as he looked forward to returning to the Stargazer, there were few comforts of Earth to be found on any ship.

As he stepped into the water the cold hit him like a wall and he felt his body break out in goose bumps. Taking a deep breath he immersed himself under water, hoping to make the frigid temperature more bearable. He opened his eyes to find the water a clear and lovely greenish hue. When he came up, he ran a hand over his head, feeling his short hair and realizing with some regret that within a few years he would be almost completely bald. Perhaps he thought, he should get implants or simply shave it off. More likely he would do nothing, because to attract any attention to his insecurities betrayed weakness, something he was unwilling to do. Absentmindedly he grabbed a piece of seaweed and began swirling it around on the surface of the water. The sun glinted on the surface and he felt goose bumps again as the warmth of the sun met the chilly air and water and enveloped him. He sighed and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes after a moment Beverly Howard was standing at the shoreline. Wearing a very flattering bathing suit, she regarded him with a small smile. She was nine years younger than him, a cadet at Starfleet Medical Academy, but she had such a mature presence, he could easily forget her age. Jack had told her she lost both her parents when she was young, and perhaps some of her self-awareness and strength could be attributed to this. She was at the top of her class and considered one of the new medical talents to watch. "How lovely to see you relaxing," she said, wading into the water a few steps before unexpectedly diving under. When she emerged from the water, she was standing very close to him.

The water was only waist deep, and Picard stepped backward slightly to what seemed to him to be a safer distance. He was careful not to let his gaze wander downward to her bathing suit. "I see that we share a love of cold morning swims," he said feeling his teeth chatter slightly.

She nodded in agreement, offering a small smile. "Sleep well?" Her eyes danced with amusement at his expense, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment despite the coolness of the water.

"Yes, fine, thank you," he said stiffly.

Beverly sank down submerging her body, and then rose out of the water again gracefully. She reached up and smoothed her hair back, eyes closed. Picard took the opportunity to quickly glance at her body. Simply the sight of her reaching up to wring out her long auburn hair was stimulating to him. As she opened her eyes he could not be certain whether his expression was as neutral as he hoped. She seemed to notice his discomfort and to his annoyance, she seemed pleased by it.

"How long have you and Cynthia been together?" She asked innocently.

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "We're not…together," he said. She lifted an eyebrow as if to say "oh really?" He frowned. "That is to say, we just met a few days ago," said Picard.

"Oh," she said casually. "So is this what you typically do on shore leave; pick up some hot young thing for a few days and then head back to your ship?"

"No," he said. "And I assure you that my life is far less interesting than you imply."

"That's not what your friends say," she pushed back. She wasn't sure why she was needling him, but something about his reticence to reveal anything about himself made her want to know more. "I don't think I like where this conversation is headed," Picard said, beginning to make his way to the shoreline. "Besides, it doesn't matter."

"What does matter to you?"

Again, he was caught off guard and turned back around. "I suppose doing my duty; becoming a good leader. And I consider myself an explorer," he added. "All of those things matter to me," he said rather curtly.

"Jack says you already are a good leader. He also thinks you are going to be offered your own command soon."

He shrugged. "Jack gives me more credit than I deserve. I'm getting cold," he said now nearing the shoreline.

She knew she was being infuriatingly persistent in her line of questioning, but he was so uptight and closed off that it only encouraged her. "Becoming a captain at such a young age is very impressive I'm sure. Is it more important to you than your friends or maybe starting a family someday?"

Now on the beach he turned to face her. "Beverly, why the interest in my career? Did Jack put you up to this?"

She laughed and began to follow him onto shore. "No, and if you haven't noticed, I have a mind of my own."

"Oh I certainly _had_ noticed," he said pointedly.

"Well then perhaps I am just interested in getting to know you. You are Jack's best friend after all."

"Fair enough," he said toweling himself off. He felt her eyes on him, but pretended not to notice her gaze. Did she find him attractive? Part of him hoped she did, and part of him was frightened that she did. As long as she was with his best friend, he knew which side of him must always win out.

She seemed to realize that she was staring at him and eventually averted her gaze, looking down at her hands. "I love Jack very much you know," she said in a tone that seemed slightly forced. He tilted his head at her curiously. Just who was she trying to convince anyway?

He wrapped the towel around himself suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I'm…glad to hear that," he said, hoping he sounded at least somewhat sincere.

"And I don't want to see him hurt," she added.

Picard's eyes narrowed at that. "Of course I don't either, Beverly. Just what are you getting at?"

"Jack would do anything for you," she said. "I wonder…will you show him the same level of devotion once you've achieved your goal of becoming a captain? Or will you walk away and disappear from his life?"

Picard twisted the towel in his hands angrily, but had no idea how to answer her. So, Beverly Howard obviously considered him to be a selfish, heartless bastard. If that was really what she thought of him, he had no idea how to change her mind. "How unfortunate that during only our third meeting you've developed such a low opinion of me, Beverly. And to think when I first met you, I thought…." He shook his head and turned to walk away. He could see Walker just stretching his long torso out of his tent, squinting and yawning.

"What?" Beverly pursued him. "You thought what?" She wanted him to finish his sentence. Had he thought she was like Cynthia; a potential one night stand the first time they had met? Usually it hardly mattered to her what other people thought about her but with Picard it was different, and she was infuriated by her own insecurity. Months before, on the evening before she was formally introduced to Jean-Luc Picard, she had met a man while on the way home from class while he was jogging through the park on campus.*

The encounter had been brief but it had meant something to both of them and in that brief moment they had made a connection. The next day Jack introduced Beverly to his best friend, Jean-Luc Picard, the same man, it turned out that she had met the night before. Until now, neither one of them had spoken of their first meeting, nor had they told Jack. After meeting Picard her life became different, more complicated. She was attracted to Picard, but thankfully she saw him infrequently, and because she was so in love with Jack, it wasn't impossible to keep Picard out of mind as well as sight. But now with Jack on the Stargazer with Picard, they were both away most of the time, and it began to be difficult to think of one man and not the other. Now she almost felt obligated to find a reason to dislike Picard, to put some distance between them.

Picard stopped and regarded her quietly, curbing his own emotions and hoping that she would calm down before either of them caused a scene. But he could think of nothing he could say that would lessen the tension between them or improve the situation. So instead they continued to glare at each other.

"Hey, have a nice swim?" Walker sauntered over to them casually, but he also had a wary look on his face as though he was attempting to avert trouble if he could. Walker looked at Beverly and then at Jean-Luc, as he bit into an apple loudly. Neither of them said a word, but they didn't need to. Walker could tell that this was trouble. He put an arm around each of them and began to walk them back to camp. "The most important thing to me is to see my friends happy," said Walker, his arms still draped over his friends' shoulders. "Now if either of you were not happy would you tell me? Because I just can't take all this pouting—"

"Oh Walker, shut up!" Beverly ducked out from underneath his arm and jogged off to find Jack. Walker sighed, as he and Picard stared after her. Walker eyed his friend cautiously. "So, Jean-Luc what do you think of her?"

Picard stepped away from Walker and his face tightened. "I think…it will be a long damn time before I visit San Francisco on shore leave again," he snapped and then stalked away.

* The incident of their first meeting appears in the story "New Beginnings".


	8. Chapter 8

**2344**

Guinan hadn't seen Q for years and she had nearly forgotten about the deal she made with it. She had followed the arrangement so far, but only because she had bonded with the human in a way that she had only encountered with her youngest son. She had no idea if Q could be credited with the strength of this bond or if it was something more natural. She had kept an eye on Jean-Luc Picard since his childhood, and she had encountered him a number of times, mostly when he was unaware of her presence. She continued her modestly successful interstellar trading business, traveling through galaxies mainly without incident, until one day Q appeared in her life again.

"I require a progress report," it said, blinking into existence in front of her. She was wrapping up a trip to Vulcan during which she had had traded for scientific artifacts she knew would be highly prized where she was headed next. She had decided to sit in the red sandy hills for a few hours in contemplation before re-boarding her ship. She was nearing the end of her meditation when the entity appeared. It had taken humanoid form again and it's face bore the same snide expression it always did.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Guinan mildly.

"The human," said Q just as smoothly. "How is his progress?"

"Is that all you expect of me? If that is all you need to know, he seems to be doing well. How thoughtful of such a powerful being to be so concerned for the welfare of so small and primitive a being."

"Yes, well we all must make sacrifices," said Q ignoring her sarcasm. "I need the human ready within the next 20 Earth years, so just do what you agreed to and keep track of him."

Guinan studied the entity carefully. "Why is this human so important to you, Q?" She had developed a bond with Picard and was beginning to be concerned with the undefined reason she had agreed to watch over him all of these years. At first she had done so out of selfish reasons. She had failed to find her son alive after years of searching for him, and Q had given the opportunity to bond with a child, which is what Picard was nearly 20 years ago when she had first met with him. Now he was an adult, and a successful Starfleet officer at that. She had no desire to complicate Picard's life, or place him in danger because of her arrangement with Q.

"Oh he is hardly important," scoffed Q. "But if you must know, he is part of an experiment I plan on launching once he is ready to be tested. I need you to help ensure that his fate unfolds the way I anticipate it will."

Guinan frowned. "And how would I ensure that his fate meets your expectations?"

"He will require your occasional guidance to steer him in the right direction, that's all."

"I still don't understand," she said. "Why him, and what exactly is this 'experiment'?"

Q shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does," said Guinan.

"It didn't matter to you when Picard was a child and you could pretend he was your dead son. Why does it matter now?"

Guinan felt all of the peace she had discovered on this planet dissipate from her soul as she regarded this thoughtless creature. "I want out of this arrangement," she said in a low voice, gathering her belongings up and slinging them over her shoulder. Her pilot, Remi waved at her from the ship, but she felt her feet suddenly grow heavy and she was unable to turn away from Q.

The atmosphere between Guinan and Q grew still and even the song of a nearby bird ceased until all was quiet. Q's eyes grew as dark as night and the landscape around her faded, while Q still in its humanoid form in front of her was sharply outlined. "You don't seem to understand El Aurian…" it said. "There is no way out of this arrangement."

Guinan closed her eyes and focused her will outward. She heard a pop and when she opened her eyes Q's humanoid shape had disappeared and a white light floated in its place. She could move and felt free again. She sensed incredible surprise and anger from the entity, but it didn't matter anymore. She stepped backward and headed towards her ship.


	9. Chapter 9

**2345**

The Stargazer and her crew had been charting a remote area of space for several days now, and the boredom of the routine mission was getting to everyone. The only find of note was an ancient mine field of unknown origin. The Stargazer currently drifted outside the field. As Captain Mathew Horan sat in the cramped briefing room with his senior officers around him the tension was almost visible. He loved his crew, but if they felt the same about each other, they certainly did not show it. Commander Warren, his first officer was perhaps the most ambitious officer Horan had ever served with, and he had succeeded in isolating himself from the crew.

His second officer Lt. Commander Picard was an excellent officer if a bit stiff. His potential as an officer was, in Horan's opinion, limitless, but his stoicism often scared his subordinates and threatened his colleagues and even, in the case of Commander Warren, his superiors. Horan had decided that Picard was simply built to command. Thankfully, for Captain Horan, he was also a loyal officer and had followed Horan's command for the last five years so far without incident. Despite Picard's rank of Lt. Commander, Horan had heard rumblings in Starfleet that Picard would soon be offered a starship command. First Officer Warren had also heard this rumor and was hardly happy about it. Despite this tension between his staff, they now sat together focused on ship's business. Science officer T'Pel, the only member of his bridge crew who always seemed above the in-fighting was indicating the current mission was not worth pursuing further.

"Captain Horan, our sensors have gathered little data of interest during our survey, aside from a heavy Tholian presence." said T'Pel drily. "I recommend that we exit this system as expeditiously as possible."

"Captain, I disagree," cut in Commander Warren. "We're scheduled to remain in this sector for three more days and there is no reason to leave at this time. The sensors have indicated no more than two passing ships, possibly Tholian, during the last two days."

"It only takes two Tholian ships to create an energy web," noted Lt. Commander Picard mildly.

Warren did not even turn to regard the younger man, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable. "I wasn't finished speaking Mr. Picard," he snapped. "As usual, thank you for your concise opinion," he added, after receiving a look from Captain Horan.

T'Pel tilted her head curiously. "As Lt. Commander Picard noted, the Tholians are likely to attack in tandem, if they determine we have been present in this area too long for their liking."

"Yes," said Horan, "but this isn't Tholian territory."

"Sir, from the Federation's perspective that is correct," offered Picard. "However, we are in an uncharted sector, and the Tholians may already consider it their territory. If that is the case they will be very unhappy to have us here."

"Fine, but until we hear from the Tholians, I suggest we proceed as planned—."

"Bridge to Captain Horan." Commander Warren was interrupted by the voice of Lt. Jack Crusher, who was currently manning the communications systems." Subspace message coming in for you sir."

Horan nodded, "Patch it through, please."

There was a high-pitched whine and then a shrill voice broke through. "Federation Starship, you are in encroaching on the territories of the Tholian Empire. You will cease your illegal activities and withdraw in 3 of your minutes. If you do not withdraw we will remove you by force."

Horan started to reply, but the message cut out. He stood up quickly. "I guess they're in no mood for conversation," he remarked. "Yellow alert," he called out, as he exited the briefing room with his crew following behind.

"Captain," said Lt. Vigo, at the conn. "Four Tholian cruisers approaching." He looked up from his screen. "Captain, the ships have surrounded us in a semi-circle and their weapons are powered up."

"Red alert," shouted Commander Warren. "Shields up!"


	10. Chapter 10

Jean-Luc Picard had only seen a Tholian once before on a view screen, and no one he knew in Starfleet had ever met a Tholian in person. Tholians were an insect-like species, hermaphroditic with multiple limbs and dome-shaped heads. Collectively they had no apparent interest in other cultures, and displayed a general disdain for all things non-Tholian. The first thing to remember about Tholians was that they were very territorial, and the second thing to remember was that they were extremely punctual.

Essentially what this meant was that when you entered territory claimed by Tholians, you were not at all welcome and they expected you to get out exactly within the time frame they set forth, which was usually only a few minutes. If you failed to comply, they nearly always chose to attack. As Picard moved to his place at the tactical station behind the Captain's chair, he knew that the Captain would need to decide his course of action, and soon, since the Tholians had given him only 3 minutes.

"Recommendations," said Captain Horan tightly. Picard waited for Commander Warren to give his suggestions first, which would no doubt conflict with his own. It was no secret that he and the First Officer did not get along, but Picard knew his place, and despite his dislike for the man personally, he respected Warren's position.

"Recommend that we stand our ground, Captain," said Warren. "We're in the middle of Starfleet business and we should not bow to the Tholians just because they are making a show of aggression."

Horan stared straight ahead at the view screen which displayed the two arrow shaped Tholian ships pointed menacingly in the direction of the Stargazer. "Picard?"

Picard straightened at his post. "Sir, I recommend we comply with the Tholians' request and leave. The Tholians' weaponry is comparable to our own, and we are outnumbered 4 to 1. And as Lt. Commander T'Pel noted, our mission in this area has hardly been fruitful." Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw T'Pel glance at him with a look of approval.

"Lt. Crusher, open a channel to the Tholian commander's ship. Let's see what they are thinking," said Horan.

"Aye sir," said Jack, complying.

"This is Captain Horan of the USS Stargazer. You noted correctly when you made your threats that we are a Federation ship. We are in the middle of a scientific mission—"

"Federation ship you have one minute to exit this system, or we will take all necessary measures."

"Visual," said Warren, and the image of the Tholian commander shimmered into view. The Tholian was quite beautiful, perfectly symmetrical, which was possibly one of the reasons they so prized perfection in everything that they did.

"Why have you surrounded my ship in a show of force?" demanded Captain Horan. "I propose a compromise. Let us finish our mission and we will leave the sector within 24 hours."

"Diplomacy from the Federation is equal to deceit," said the Tholian shrilly. "There is no compromise, only compliance with our order."

Picard would later describe what came next as a lapse in judgment on the part of Captain Horan, which led to horrible consequences. Put simply it was a deadly mistake.

"Lt. Vigo, set a coordinates at 360.241."

"Sir," said T'Pel with restrained concern, "that heading will take us further into the sector, not away from it."

"I'm aware of that, but I want to see how they react when we are in a less compromised position. I don't like being surrounded." The ship moved quickly out of the immediate reach of the circling Tholians, but immediately the four ships were in swift pursuit.

"Sir, the three minute time limit has elapsed," said Picard, steeling himself for the inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack turn and fix him with a concerned expression then turn quickly back to his station. The next second the Stargazer shuddered with the shock of impact from the Tholian plasma beams. Picard staggered and grabbed the steel railing, as he gave his report. "Aft shields are at 40 percent."

"Fire aft torpedoes," shouted Horan. "Divert power from the forward shields to compensate."

Picard did as he was told and fired as the ship shuddered again with a greater force. Damage reports began to flood in from all decks. "Sir," said Picard, "Our right warp nacelle has been compromised."

"Vigo, get us out of here!" shouted Horan.

"Captain," shouted Jack Crusher, "engineering reports several casualties and…we've lost warp capability."

Two more successive impacts came, this time from above the ship. Before anyone could react, an explosion burst a hole in the inner ceiling of the bridge and a blue-white fork of lightning shot down the wall to Picard's left, and then jumped to the front of his console. There was another explosion and he was knocked backward into T'Pel at the science station. The Vulcan woman caught him with gracefully strong arms and helped him steady himself. Nodding his thanks to her he moved back to his post dazed, at the same time hearing shouts of anguish from below and in front of him. On the floor in a smoking heap in front of the Captain's chair lay Captain Horan. Jack Crusher was spraying fire suppressant on the area in front of tactical which used to be the captain's chair. The smell of charred flesh was nauseating.

"Picard!" shouted Commander Warren, choking on the smoke as he dragged Horan's lifeless body to the side. "Take the conn. Vigo, man the tactical station." Picard rushed past him without a word and flung himself into the pilot's seat. He brought the ship around quickly so that Vigo could draw a clear shot on the lead ship. "Fire!" shouted Warren again, and this time it was a direct hit. The lead Tholian ship spiraled out of control and into the adjacent mine field. It hit a mine, apparently an active one, and exploded. Picard made a mental note of this, as he careened the Stargazer between two of the other ships. Vigo let go a spray of photon torpedoes as the ship passed in between.

"Captain", yelled Vigo, "one of the Tholian vessels is deploying a plasma web!" Sure enough blue white tendrils of plasma began to exit the back of the Tholian ship closest to the Stargazer. As though the ships were communicating, the second and third remaining Tholian ship's joined in and soon the Stargazer was nearly enveloped in a glowing web.


	11. Chapter 11

Caught up in his duties as he was, Picard was unable to turn around to see the source of the sudden and labored breathing behind him. But within the next few moments, everything changed for him. "Picard—take us…take us out," he heard acting-Captain Warren cough raggedly. He heard Jack yell and Jack would later tell Picard that he caught Warren just before he fell over unconscious. Jack pried the man's fingers away from his side to find his abdomen covered in blood. Warren had been wounded by shrapnel when Captain Horan went down, and had been trying, successfully until that moment, to hide his pain.

"Bridge to sickbay," shouted T'Pel. "Commander Warren has been seriously injured and we need assistance."

Instinctively, Picard motioned for Jack to take over at conn as he jumped up and stood in the center of the Bridge. Picard was shouting before Jack sat down. "Helm bring us around at half impulse and aim for the opening there," he pointed at the view screen.

"Captain the web is closing quickly, and once it is complete we will be trapped and at their mercy," said T'Pel.

"That's why I am getting us out of here," Picard said, for some reason noticing how calm his own voice sounded. He squinted at the screen and saw that two of the Tholian ships were still connected to the web, while the third had moved away and was hanging motionless. "On my mark, activate the aft tractor beam as we exit. Commander T'Pel we shall need as much power diverted to the tractor beam as possible."

"Captain, may I ask your plan of action?" T'Pel turned from her post at the science station to regard Picard curiously. He appeared to have every confidence in himself, and perhaps that should have been sufficient for her. However, they were in a life-threatening predicament, and she was a Vulcan. She required evidence, proof that Picard was capable. She could not simply have…faith in the way that she knew Crusher and Vigo would. Despite this fact, she admired Picard as much as any human, and perhaps even more than she admired most Vulcans.

"Ask me after we're out of here—engage," he ordered speaking quickly. The ship shot forward and closed the distance in a matter of seconds. The Tholians appeared to build the web faster, anticipating the escape. The inactive Tholian ship hanging just outside the web began to power up.

"Fire a full array" shouted Picard, and Vigo complied sending a wave of photon torpedoes and full phasers at the Tholian ship. The ship immediately disintegrated. Picard had judged correctly that the ship had depleted most of its power in battle and in building the web, and had been literally resting while the other two ships finished encapsulating the Stargazer. Picard guessed that the shields would not be at full power and so a direct hit would likely destroy the Tholian ship, which it had. Not taking any chances, he had fired everything they had.

"Yes!" Shouted Jack Crusher, unable to contain his joy at the event, even though he knew they were nowhere near out of danger.

"Man your post Lieutenant," snapped Picard tightly. They couldn't afford to celebrate yet.

"Aye sir," said Jack settling back into his seat. "We're almost to the opening, sir".

"Set coordinates to 240.301. On my mark, go to full impulse power and activate the tractor beam."

"Captain," said T'Pel with calm restraint, "that heading will take us directly toward the mine field, and at full impulse we will have less than five seconds before we enter the field."

"I'm aware of that Commander. Now be ready to activate the tractor beam, and attach it to the web."

"Yes sir," responded T'Pel arching an eyebrow.

"Captain the Tholians are nearly finished, but they have not yet detached from the web," said Vigo.

"That's what I'm counting on," murmured Picard, staring straight ahead.

"We're clear," announced Crusher suddenly.

"Mark," said Picard, and the ship shot forward at full impulse toward the mine field. The ship lurched, as the weight of the Tholian web slowed the Stargazer down.

Picard stepped back and secured his left arm around the railing. "Everyone _hold_ on," he ordered, and then, "Bring the ship about 180 degrees and full stop!" The ship lurched again, and this time he thought he heard screeching within the bowels of the ship as it protested this odd maneuver. Jack had fallen from his seat, and was struggling to pull himself back up. The shuddering of the ship became louder. Picard was only able to get out the words "detach the tractor beam" before he felt himself fly through the air and then everything went black.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't sure exactly where he was, but gradually he remembered that he was on the Bridge. Captain Horan had been killed…Commander Warren had been seriously injured and brought to sickbay. The Tholians…the Tholians! He sat up abruptly and suddenly knew it had been the wrong thing to do. A wave of pain shuddered through him and he fainted. When he woke up again, it was because someone with wiry hands was shaking him, and not too gently. "Captain Picard, wake up," a voice said sternly as the shaking continued. He fluttered his eyes open and forced himself to look at the speaker. As his double-vision cleared and he recognized T'Pel he tried to sit up again and this time she helped him, practically lifted him up to a standing position, for he felt very shaky.

Leaning on her he looked around the Bridge then at the view screen, which showed only blackness. "Status," he croaked, feeling the pounding in his head increase by the moment. A concussion, he was sure. Jack Crusher, still at the helm turned to look at Picard and grinned. A temporary bandage was plastered on Jack's forehead. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, still grinning as he returned his attention to his post.

"Captain we are out of immediate danger," said T'Pel, still gripping Picard's left arm as they stood at the center of the Bridge. His left arm throbbed, and hung limply at his side. Dislocation, he noted dully, and when he looked down he saw that his hand was slick with blood. "Your plan worked," said T'Pel, dispassionately.

"When the Stargazer halted and turned abruptly the momentum acted as a slingshot and carried the Tholian web and the Tholian ships into the minefield where they were destroyed. Your assessment of the situation was…accurate," she added. He looked at her with a small smile. This was high praise from such a sharp mind as this Vulcan science officer. He also noted that she had an ugly gash above her right eye and a slow but drying trickle of greenish blood ran down her cheek. He reached up to wipe it carefully away but T'Pel jerked back reflexively as though his hand was on fire. She said nothing, but a look of slight embarrassment crossed her refined features as she turned away, leading him to a seat.

"I recommend that we warp out of this system to the nearest starbase, Captain," she said, straightening with her hands clasped tightly behind her back. "Engineering reports warp drive is now back on line and our other systems are functional. Casualties, however, are quite high and many of the crew, including you requires medical attention. In addition, there is the matter of Captain Horan's death, and Starfleet Command has demanded a report."

"I agree, let's get out of here" said Picard gently touching his aching forehead. "Mr. Crusher, set course for starbase 242, warp six."


	12. Chapter 12

Beverly Howard sat tapping her foot restlessly waiting for Jack to appear. The Stargazer had limped into Earth orbit yesterday afternoon, and as soon as she had been able to break away from her class and research duties this morning, she had boarded a shuttle for dry dock. She was unprepared for the sight of the Stargazer's beaten appearance. One of the warp nacelles was blackened and was now being meticulously repaired by robotic mechanic crews. As the shuttle drifted over the top of the ship Beverly was horrified to see that it was charred to the extent that she could no longer read the ship's name. "How did they survive?" she murmured to herself.

An hour later she sat waiting for him with two cups of coffee. She had already downed her coffee and now felt nervous and jittery. Suddenly Jack appeared around a corner, grinning as usual. Aside from a bandage above his right eye he looked great. They embraced for a good 30 seconds before letting each other go long enough to sit down. She handed Jack the coffee, but he was too wound up already for caffeine. She held his hand to try and calm him down, lightly touching his bandaged face with the other. "Jack, tell me what happened." He began to tell her everything from his first communication with the Tholians, to Captain Horan's miscalculation and sudden death, until Beverly made him take a break to calm himself. He was clearly still shaken by the death of the Captain, who had by all accounts been a good man.

"How did you get away? I don't see how you could have beaten four ships."

Jack took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly. "It was Jean-Luc, he found a way—he found several ways to defeat them in the space of less than one minute. Beverly it was amazing. He was born to do this, and I am convinced that were it not for Jean-Luc we would all be dead."

Beverly smiled. "Well where is he? I need to thank him for bringing you back in one piece. Sort of," she added, eyeing his bandage.

Jack's gaze darkened with anger and he lowered his voice. "Command has been grilling him ever since we docked. Apparently there is some inconsistency between his version of events and Commander Warren's."

"Warren?"

"Oh yes," said Jack, "he's recovered quite nicely from his injuries. Now he's bent on keeping Jean-Luc from getting command of the Stargazer. Essentially he is telling Command that Jean-Luc demanded we stay in Tholian space, and that Captain Horan listened to his counsel leading to the events that followed."

"But that's not true! You just told me what happened."

Jack shook his head. "You don't understand what Warren will do to get his own command. He will lie to get what he wants even if it destroys Picard."

"Has Picard requested command of the Stargazer?"

"No," said Jack. "But he was promoted during battle and Starfleet apparently sees it fitting that his first command be the Stargazer, the ship that he saved. In reality he could have any ship he wanted, but for some reason he says he is going to stay with the Stargazer. He told me…he told me he wants to continue serving with me," Jack continued, choking up.

Beverly placed a hand over his and studied his face—he was exhausted, as much as he tried to hide it. She felt her thoughts drift to Picard, and she thought about how she had accused him months ago of being more loyal to his career than he was to Jack. She supposed now that she owed him an apology. She pictured his reaction, his smugness, and felt heat rising in her face and neck. The thought of seeing him both irritated and excited her, and it did not escape her that when she had imagined seeing Jack again she felt mostly worry for him, as she would for any close…friend. It was at that moment that she realized her feelings for Jack had changed, had become more mature, but not in the way that she imagined they would have. It was also at that moment that she felt even more resolved to stay with him, as if to prove a point to herself. And for the first time she hated her own natural stubbornness because now it bordered on dishonesty.

And still she heard herself saying "Come on, let's go and find Jean-Luc, it will make you feel better." Part of her wondered if she was really talking to Jack or herself.

As the two men stalked out of the hearing room, the tension between them which had been restrained a few moments ago, exploded. "Picard!" Warren shouted from behind him. "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do, _Commande_r," answered Picard without slowing his pace in the deserted hallway. "I said everything I needed to back in that room."

Warren put a heavy hand on Picard's shoulder whirling him around. "Do you think I'm a fool, Picard? Do you think I don't know how you secretly wanted to command the Stargazer? Well you have your wish, now don't you? It's too bad a good man had to die for your dream to be fulfilled—". As quickly as the words had escaped Warren's mouth, Picard's hand snaked around the man's throat and pinned him up against the wall. He squeezed with steady pressure, as Warren's eyes bulged.

"You lying son of a bitch," Picard snarled. Suddenly realizing where he was, and what he was doing, he backed off, half expecting a defensive blow from Warren.

But Warren didn't hit him back. Instead, he adjusted his uniform and smiled thinly. He rubbed his neck absently. "Finally: some emotion after all these years. I'll give you some advice, Picard. You'll never make it as a Captain, you're too tightly wound. You are so very controlled, but it's all a show isn't it? You're a mess, and I would love to be there when that becomes clear to everyone else." He pushed himself away from the wall and shoved past Picard without another word.

Picard stood in the corridor, head bowed, hearing Warren's words drift through his head. He turned abruptly at the sound of his name being called out softly. "Jean-Luc?" It was Jack, looking at him questioningly, and next to him stood Beverly Howard. He had been unprepared for the sight of her, and he felt the breath exit his body involuntarily. He walked toward them reluctantly, but by the time he reached them, he hoped his expression was confident enough to convince him that he was fine.

"What was that all about?" demanded Jack. He and Beverly hadn't seen or heard everything, but they had seen Warren's hasty exit and they felt the tension that still lingered in the hallway.

Picard shrugged and motioned for them to sit down on some nearby benches. "Nothing," he said calmly.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, only to close it as he saw T'Pel exit the hearing room. He jumped up and trotted over to speak with her, leaving Jean-Luc and Beverly alone. The Vulcan woman looked more somber than ever as he approached. "Hey," said Jack, "T'Pel what happened in there?"

T'Pel raised an eyebrow. "Would you like a complete recitation of the events or something more specific?" she asked drily.

Jack frowned. "What did Warren say, and did they believe him?"

T'Pel clasped her hands behind her back. She glanced over Jack's shoulder at Picard who was sitting uncomfortably next to a beautiful young woman, whom T'Pel surmised was Jack's significant other. Seeing them sit next to each other brought up an emotion in T'Pel, which she quickly buried. Returning her gaze to Jack, she briefly wondered if he saw the same thing she did when he looked at his best friend and his lover together. It was doubtful, she decided. Then focusing again, she answered his question. "Commander Warren lied," she said simply. "And because I corroborated Captain Picard's version of events, Admiral Halsey no longer considered Warren very…credible. As such your testimony will not be required."

"And the Stargazer?" he prompted anxiously.

"Once it is sufficiently repaired it will return to service under Captain Picard's command."

Jack smiled, satisfied. "Good," he said. "And who will be First Officer?" he asked cautiously. T'Pel was the obvious choice. Jack had no ambitions to be second in command—yet, and he would be happy to see T'Pel take on that role.

T'Pel's gaze shifted, and she seemed suddenly uncomfortable. "Starfleet has appointed me as interim First Officer," she said.

Jack was puzzled. "Why would this only be temporary? T'Pel they would be crazy not to want you—"

"It is not 'them', it is me," interrupted T'Pel uncharacteristically. "I have a conflict," she continued, almost as though she struggled to get the words out. "I cannot serve as Captain Picard's second in command," she said as if it were obvious.

Jack shook his head, completely confused. As far as he could tell, Picard and T'Pel had served well together and had the utmost respect for one another. Then as he studied her normally impassive face, he began to see the truth of it. "Are you…are you in love with Jean-Luc?"

If she were a human being she would have simply denied it or evaded the question. Instead she continued to fix him with her measured gaze and it was only a slight hesitation in her voice that gave her away. "It is…illogical," she said quietly. Jack sighed.


	13. Chapter 13

Picard adjusted his sling and sat back in on the bench. He nodded at Beverly seated next to him. "A pleasure to see you as always," he said with a small smile.

Beverly Howard pursed her lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you don't seem very convincing," she remarked. She saw his eyes grow cool, and knew she had started the conversation poorly.

"My apologies," he simply murmured, and sat back again, resting his aching head on the wall behind him. There was no way to adequately convey to her how wrong she was, and so he decided not to pursue the subject. Right now the only thing he really wanted was comfort, and he truly wished that she could be that for him.

"Jack told me what happened out there, Jean-Luc," she ventured. He said nothing. "I suppose cadets will be studying you at the Academy sooner than you expected."

"Is that what you think I want?" His eyes were closed, head still resting. It was so much easier not to look at her.

She slapped her hands down on her lap, and his eyes snapped open. "I don't know what it is you want, Jean-Luc, you barely even talk to me."

He turned his head to look at her carefully. "The last time we met, you made your feelings about me very clear. You predicted that I would abandon Jack, my best friend in favor of my career. What more is there to say?"

"I'm sorry, I was wrong to say that to you," she blurted out. She saw him smile slightly and resisted the urge to punch him in the shoulder—his injured one. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you staying with the Stargazer because you really want to, or because you're trying to prove me wrong?"

He actually laughed at that. "Have you wondered why we can't seem to have a conversation without it devolving into an argument?"

She looked at him squarely, her blue eyes flashing. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I have."  
"And, have you got any theories?" He felt his smile widen as he studied her, and then felt it fade just as quickly as he noticed that she was dead serious.

"A few," she said quietly. "But…I don't see any of those theories turning into reality any time soon, Jean-Luc. Do you?"

He cleared his throat. "No," he said softly. "But I would like to try…to be your friend."

Standing up and turning to him, she extended her hand to him. "To our friendship," she said, and he shook her hand firmly. Still holding his hand, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek. He felt the moistness of her lips graze his skin and inhaled her scent deeply. "That was for bringing Jack back to me in one piece," she said, finally letting go of his hand. He felt dizzy, and knew it was only partly because of his concussion.


	14. Chapter 14

Jean-Luc Picard sat up late in the dry dock personnel lounge, drinking a glass of brandy and staring out the view port. He had gone over his conversation with Beverly over and over in his head until he could think of nothing else, and it was driving him crazy. He knew he should be sleeping, getting some rest before the Stargazer disembarked in a few days. The problem was when he closed his eyes, his mind filled with images of her, and of her voice testing him. But he was tired, and when he heard another familiar voice call his name, his head had drifted down to rest on his forearm in a half dream state. He jerked up, eyes bleary and nearly knocked over his unfinished drink.

There sitting across from him, was Guinan. He blinked, unconvinced that he was actually awake. "Insomnia?" she asked.

"You might say that," he said, downing the last of his drink.

She shook her head. "Next time try some warm milk. The results are better."

"Oh? Does warm milk help you forget your worries?"

"No, but then neither does brandy—at least not for long," she added.

"Have you ever been in love?" He asked, slurring slightly. For some reason he was not in the least bothered that she was sitting there. He was beyond the point of wondering how she traveled from place to place, or why she appeared when she did.

"Once or twice," she shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

He rubbed the top of his head and looked down at the table. "I want to know how to make it go away," he said, looking at her with a pained expression. For a moment he looked like the frightened child she had first met on Earth all those years ago. Now here they were in orbit above that same city, and in much the same way, Picard was still vulnerable and hurting.

Guinan looked at her friend with deep empathy, but said, "I wish I knew how to help you Picard."

He shrugged. "I know, there is never an easy answer I suppose. Now," he began, head clearing somewhat. "What brings you here?"

Guinan sat back, and adjusted her oversized hat. "I'm in trouble, Picard."

He sat up straighter. "Again?"

"Remember all those years ago, when you helped me out with that Klingon on Tau Ceti III?"

Picard felt his mouth curl into a smile. "Not exactly a forgettable experience," he muttered.

"Yes," she said returning his smile. "Well Klingons have very long memories, and Darok never forgot that I freed some of his slaves. Recently he caught up with me near Klingon space and I nearly lost my head, if you understand my meaning." She pulled her robe away so that he could see where a long ugly scar, still healing, ran from under her chin to her shoulder.

"The authorities should be notified," said Picard, starting to get up from his chair.

"Actually, Picard, what I really need is your help," she said, motioning him to sit back down. "Darok has been trailing me for months now and he is relentless. Darok's sister, Darai—I'm sure you haven't forgotten her—is currently warring with him, and if you were to convince her to move against Darok right now, it would distract him enough that I think it might give me enough time to escape, you know just make myself scarce for a few years."

Picard was briefly embarrassed at the mention of Darai, but he slowly shook his head rationally. "I'm sorry Guinan, but I cannot leave my post. I was just assigned to command the Stargazer. I cannot simply leave in order to help you. I'm sorry," he said, hoping she would understand, but feeling the guilt creep into his heart.

It was Guinan's turn to stand. "I understand," she said without anger or resentment. "I'll be seeing you around?" He nodded, as she turned and began to walk away. "Oh, and Picard…congratulations and good luck."

He stood up. "You'll keep in touch?" he said calling after her.

She smiled at him in a motherly way. "Count on it," she said, and was gone.

* * *

So, it gave the Klingon some help here and there, not too much, just enough to give him a chance. The Klingon was stupid, that much was plain. Q had no intention of letting Guinan be killed by the Klingon, but at the same time, it wouldn't mind seeing her suffer a bit. Clearly she needed some perspective. Perhaps then when Q eventually swooped in to save her she would reconsider reneging on her agreement with it. After all, Picard needed looking after, and she was doing a rather shoddy job of it. Picard's career was going well, better than could be expected for someone with such limited credentials, but Q still had yet to see the promise of someone expected to save his own race. But Q was patient, yes very patient.


	15. Chapter 15

**2367**

The door chimed and he had the urge to tell the visitor to go away. Instead he called out "enter" and the door swished open. Dr. Beverly Crusher walked into his quarters as gracefully as ever, but her expression carried many worries. Picard looked up from his computer screen. "Hello, Doctor, what can I do for you?"

She smiled at his typical formality and sat down on his couch. "I would like to talk."

"I am quite busy—"

"Jean-Luc, you're always busy and so am I. In fact, I just took a break from my busy day so that I could come and talk to you." She stared at him with an expectant look.

"Point taken," he murmured, rising from his desk and sitting back down next to her on the couch. "What would you like to discuss," he prompted gently.

"The day that Guinan fell ill…do you remember what you asked me?" Beverly watched him closely, as he shifted his gaze uncomfortably.

"Yes," he admitted. But he wondered why she had come to him now to raise the issue. "I asked you if you believed in fate."

"What did you mean?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper. She crossed her legs and leaned forward as though she had already been waiting a long time for his answer.

He hesitated, worried that she would not understand, or would misunderstand. "It was as though I knew Guinan was dying before we even found her. I suppose it was at that moment that I realized that the bond I have with Guinan is so unusual, so organic that perhaps we were fated to meet. That is all I meant."

"And what exactly is the bond you share with her?"

"Well", he hesitated again, studying her face. "You see I've known Guinan a very long time."

"Jean-Luc, you and I have known each other a very long time and I don't see—"

"Since I was a child," he suddenly blurted out as though he were making a confession. Beverly's eyes showed her surprise. "We met when I was twelve, and I never knew why. Even now, I don't really understand. All I know is that we were supposed to meet and…be in each other's lives."

Beverly nodded, and in her eyes there was understanding, and some lingering confusion. But there was also something else in her gaze familiar to him only. She leaned against the couch, her eyes still fixed on him. "I've been thinking about fate a lot lately," she said, reaching out to touch his hand lightly.

"Oh?" He resisted the age-old fear in him that told him to move his hand away. Instead, he kept still, and just felt the weight of her hand and the softness of her skin. Instinctively he wound his fingers around hers as they continued to sit quietly.

"Yes, I have. I've thought about how we met seemingly by chance all those years ago the night before Jack introduced us, how we drifted apart after Jack's death and then came back together here on the Enterprise; how I left the Enterprise for Starfleet Medical and then returned less than a year ago. No matter what the circumstances and where our careers have taken us Jean-Luc, we've always come back to be near each other. Haven't you ever wondered why?"

Picard appeared to be uncomfortable and let go of her hand. "Perhaps I did a long time ago." He stood up and fiddled with the teacup on his desk.

Beverly stared at him in confusion. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He began to pace back and forth. "Do you really want to have this conversation?"

"I started it, didn't I?" She stood up to face him and folded her arms defensively over her chest.

Picard stared at her and took a deep breath. "Beverly, I am afraid I can't discuss this with you right now. I am feeling a bit…out of balance because of what is happening to Guinan. It just isn't the right time."

At first Beverly looked as though she was about to object, but then she looked at him closely. "Jean-Luc, when are we going to move past this, this part of our relationship that never grows? When I returned from Medical I truly hoped that we could move beyond some of this uncomfortable history we have together. Don't you want that too?"

Picard moved away from her and stood behind his desk, fingertips resting on the table. "Beverly, I am just happy to have you back. And now that you are here, we are colleagues, friends, and I would rather not dredge up the past."

Beverly looked down at her hands, feeling her anger rising. But instead of responding to his coldness with her usual heat, she exhaled to calm herself. "I see," she said simply and began to back toward the door. "I need to get back to my work."


	16. Chapter 16

**2347 Earth**

Jack was on shore leave visiting Earth for a few weeks. Beverly had been interning for a noted epidemiologist Gerard Prager and was so immersed in her work that he rarely saw her. He had tried to hide his dismay at her absence, but one night when they were having dinner together at her apartment his opportunity to bring up the subject presented itself. Beverly had been talking excitedly all evening about a break in her research which she said might help resolve a plague that had been raging on the Andorian home world for three years. He felt thrilled for her, but at the same time, he felt forgotten.

"Bev…would you mind if we talked about something else?" Beverly was quiet for a moment, poking at her food.

"Sure," she said with a forced smile. "Sorry I didn't mean to drone on and on."

"No, no," he reassured her, "it's just that we haven't really seen each other and I was hoping to talk about us."

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Jack took a deep breath. "How would you feel about joining me on the Stargazer?" His face fell slightly as he watched her puzzled reaction.

Beverly stopped in mid-chew. "You mean…to live?" She took a drink of water and stared at him feeling somewhat stunned.

This wasn't the reaction he expected, and suddenly he realized how severely he had messed up. Her expression now conveyed her upset. "Jack, my work is here. Would you have me drop everything I've done, and leave Dr. Prager to pick up the pieces?"

"I didn't mean now…maybe after you graduate next year," he added trying to undo this mess. He was a bit tired of hearing about Dr. Prager, this and Dr. Prager that, however.

"Jack, my career is important to me, I thought you knew that," she said slowly, the tone of her voice now tensed for verbal combat. "Frankly, at this point in my life, I can't imagine serving aboard a starship—even with you."

Jack winced at that one, and he decided to strike back. "So, let me ask you this—If Dr. Prager asked you to drop everything and follow him to continue your research would you do it?"

Beverly laughed. "Jack, you know that question is not fair. First of all, it's not going to happen…."

"Under the circumstances I think it is perfectly fair for me to wonder whether my girlfriend cares more about me or her boss."

Beverly's mouth hung open in shock and anger. "Are you suggesting that I'm having an affair with Dr. Prager?" She slammed her glass down on the table, as she stood up quickly. "How could you even _think_ that let alone let it come out of your mouth?"

"I've only got so much shore leave, Beverly, and you don't seem to want to spend it with me! I think I have reason to be concerned." He stood, bracing himself for the next volley.

She strode up to him and poked him in the chest with her index finger. "You're the one who is out in exploring the galaxy, Jack. _You_ chose a life where you would have to be away from Earth most of the time and you seem to think I should be sitting here crying for you every day while you're gone. Well I'm not! I've got my own fucking life, and I'm _trying _to make my own career. I need someone in my life who is going to be supportive of me; not accuse me of sleeping around when he starts to feel insecure."

"I'm sorry, I was out of line," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"I need you to leave now," she said, and turned away. He hesitated, and then turned and walked out of her house, slamming the door.

* * *

The next day, Jack went back to Beverly's apartment. He knew she wouldn't be there, but he couldn't shake the irrational feeling of jealousy that had been growing in him since he had insinuated that Beverly was sleeping with her mentor. He actually hadn't really believed it; he had simply wanted to get her attention. At least at first he hadn't believed it, but then something about the way she had looked at him in the face of his accusations made him pause. She had been as defiant as ever, and yet something he had said had seemed to strike a note of truth.

Now, standing in her empty apartment he needed to know. For a moment he stood still in the middle of her tiny living room, giving himself the chance to reconsider. He didn't feel guilty, just anxious to find the answers to his questions. He'd only be in town for four more days, and if he was lucky she would talk to him just before he shipped out. They would reconcile, and everything would be fine again.

He stepped quietly into her bedroom, and let his eyes scan the familiar surroundings before entering. He knew where the book was, because he had seen her write in it a few times before when they first got together a few years ago. She had never tried to hide it, a realization which made him begin to feel slightly guilty. But then, he recalled he had not seen her writing in it for some time. Why was that? The jealous feeling returned. Approaching her bed he knelt down and opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand. There amidst a jumble of other odds and ends, was her diary.

He opened to a page that was marked, the most recent entry. It was quite recent, just a few months ago. Most of the writing didn't consist of complete sentences, just incomplete thoughts, and touched on a variety of subjects, mostly work-related. Then his eye rested on a line that made his heart freeze: "_I dreamt about him again last night…his hands felt so real. When I awoke, Jack was there beside me and for the first time since we've been together, I was disappointed." _

Jack tossed the diary away from him onto the bed almost reflexively. He stared at it, feeling a suffocating truth was descending upon him. For a moment he considered leaving the diary there open on the bed for her to find. It would make it easier to walk away from her, he knew. But he didn't want to walk away from her, couldn't even tear himself away from her if he tried even if she loved someone else. So instead he closed the diary, carefully put it back in its drawer and left the apartment.


	17. Chapter 17

Walker was just arriving home from teaching an evening class at the Academy when his comlink beeped. "Walker Keel?" a female voice floated through his apartment. "You've got a friend here who needs help," she said, and sounded somewhat annoyed to have to be the one to break the news.

Walker threw his data padd down on a nearby table. "Who is this?" He demanded to know.

"Never mind, just get here fast before he throws up or passes out again. I'm at 115 Alvarado Street, second floor."

It took Walker just a few minutes to get to the woman's apartment. When he had reached the landing on the second floor, a door swung open abruptly. A scantily clad woman stood in the doorway with a scowl on her face. Beyond her, clothes were strewn everywhere on the floor and the smell of alcohol and some awful perfume was overpowering. She gave him a questioning look. "Well? Are you coming in?"

Walker shook his head and stepped into the apartment warily. It didn't seem like a setup, but he had no idea what this woman was talking about…then he saw Jack lay on the floor on his back, half conscious with a stupid smile on his face. He was naked covered only by a twisted bed sheet. Walker hadn't seen his friend in this condition since a few debauched nights during Jack's Academy days, but at this stage in Jack's life when everything seemed to be going in his favor, this was a pathetic spectacle. For a moment Walker considered turning and leaving the apartment before Jack became aware of his presence. But as usual, Walker's loyalty to his friend won out and instead he stood over Jack calling his name.

"Jack, wake up!" After repeating himself five times, Jack seemed to finally hear his friend. His glassy eyes opened and stared at Walker and he waved his hand dismissively at his friend while still sprawled out.

"Get out of here Walker, you're ruining my fun," he yawned.

Walker kicked him not so gently in the ribs. "No, I think you're actually ruining _my_ fun, Jack," he said reaching down to help his friend off of the floor. "My idea of a good time after work doesn't involve peeling you off the floor of some stranger's house. You need to get the hell out of here before Beverly finds out." Jack began to giggle uncontrollably. Walker shot the young woman a look. "What the hell is he on?"

She shrugged and shoved Jack's clothes into Walker's arms. "I don't know, when I met him at the club he was already high. Some type of stimulant I guess; plus as you can see…" she gestured at an empty bottle of booze on the counter.

Jack had finally staggered to his feet only to fall over again as he struggled to put his socks on. Walker felt his temperature beginning to rise. When he had finally helped Jack get dressed enough to appear in public, and shoved him into his transport vehicle, Walker was on the verge of screaming at his friend. Instead, he tried to feel some compassion as he focused on maneuvering the hover-vehicle through the streets and back to his apartment.

* * *

Once they had arrived home, Walker pushed Jack into his apartment. As Jack stumbled in and sat down clumsily on the couch, Walker began to pace the living room. He found some blankets and tossed them at Jack. The man made no attempt to catch them, and they simply hit him in the face and dropped into his lap. Walker sighed distastefully. "You should stay here tonight. I'm going to ask you two questions, and then I'm going to bed. Was this the first time you've cheated on Beverly? And why shouldn't I tell her what you've done?"

Jack seemed to finally begin to sober up at the mention of Beverly's name. "I know I fucked up. But Walker, I think she's in love with someone else." At that he looked at Walker pointedly, as if Walker might know something he didn't.

Walker felt his heart skip a beat. "What do you mean she's in love with someone else? Who?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I don't know, but I thought you might," he groggily studied Walker's face for information.

Walker shook his head in denial. "No, I don't know, Jack," he said slowly. But at that moment he began to wonder if he did know something that Jack didn't. "How did you find this out?"

"I read her diary. She said she dreamt about a man, who wasn't me…you know she's been spending a lot of time with that Doctor—what's-his-name."

Walker clasped his hands on top of his head in frustration. "Jack, you idiot! You read an entry from her diary that said she had a dream? And then you went out and had sex with someone to get back at her? For having a dream? And yes, she is spending a lot of time with Doctor Prager because _she's working for him_. This is unbelievable," he murmured rubbing his chin. "Do you realize what kind of position you've put me in? Beverly is my friend Jack, just as much as you are." He began to pace again.

Jack had sat back and closed his eyes, and he continued to mumble to himself. "You know, when I met Beverly I thought I finally had something that Jean-Luc didn't. The only thing I've ever done better than him was to have a successful loving relationship, and now I've…ruined it."

Walker couldn't feel anything but anger and frustration right now as he watched as his friend curled up in a ball on the couch looking even more pathetic than he had in the woman's apartment. At least there Jack had been oblivious if not happy, and here reality was setting in and he was just miserable. And Walker wasn't even going to touch the issue of Jack's mention of Picard. He now recognized that the subject was a potentially incendiary one. The fact was that he had introduced Jack to Beverly, and they had both been friends of his at the time. Now just a few years later, Jack had betrayed Beverly, and Jack suspected Beverly loved someone else. Walker felt torn. "Jack you need to resolve your problems with Beverly on your own," he said finally deciding he'd had enough mental torment for the night. "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning when we're both thinking clearer."

"Are you going to tell her?" Jack's voice sounded tortured.

Walker turned off the light as he stepped out of the room. "No. You are, Jack."


	18. Chapter 18

**2347 Somewhere Near the Klingon Neutral Zone**

This was it. There was no possible way that her ship could continue to outrun a Klingon vessel, even if the enemy was just a freighter and not a battle cruiser. She had been running for months from Darok, and had been unable to stop even to re- fuel and re-stock her ship for at least three weeks. Her small crew had been spooked by the obsessive Klingon and had deserted her. So much for loyalty. Everywhere she turned, Darok turned up as well and she had been unable to shake him. Whereas before he had seemed like a clumsy oaf who couldn't even defeat two humans in hand to hand combat, he now exhibited a cunning ability to somehow predict where she wanted to go next and appear there to pursue her. It was obvious to her at this point that Q had intervened and wanted her to suffer. For what, she wondered, other than for not bending to its will.

It had been months since Guinan had last seen Picard, and he had been unable to assist her. She did not blame him, but right now it seemed she was alone in the universe with no one to care whether she lived or died. Actually the only person who seemed to care either way was Darok, who very much wanted her dead, or at least out of the way. And so that was how it happened. She ran out of ideas, her ship ran out of fuel and most importantly she had run out of time.

Guinan hadn't had time to put up a fight, because he had boarded the ship quickly and been heavily armed. What her fate held for her she no longer knew. She just knew that she was tired of being on the run. She also knew Darok had no intention of killing her, but the question was what sort of payback did he have in mind? The first thing she noticed after she had been handcuffed and brought aboard Darok's freighter was that she wasn't the only captive on board. Then she wondered if they were all to be brought to the same destination. The last thing she remembered was Darok leaning over her and growling, "You're to be put in stasis for the trip to your new home. Sweet dreams," he said, and she felt a needle in her arm and immediately the images around her began to fade to blackness.

**2347 Stargazer**

Picard rolled onto his back with a contented sigh, feeling the sweat already begin to cool on his body. He laughed, still feeling the euphoria wash over him. Beside him lay T'Pel, her skin seemed to shimmer a slightly green color in the low light of her quarters. Picard had learned over the last several months that having a Vulcan as a lover required some checking of the ego, since Vulcans were not exactly forthcoming with outward emotion or vocal encouragement in daily life or as it turned out, during sex.

However, he was never disappointed with the way that T'Pel made love, and in fact she was as enthusiastic as anyone else he had ever been with and the emotional link they shared when together was very strong, very natural. The ability to communicate telepathically through touch only intensified the experience for them both. Consequently they were together as often as possible.

But sometimes he had to wonder why she was with him. She had initiated the relationship, shortly after he had taken command of the Stargazer, a period that had been confusing for him in many other ways too. She had refused to accept the position of first officer, and instead remained on the Stargazer as one of the finest science officers in the fleet. There had been no romance, no pretense, just two people who needed each other. He had always found her attractive and she was a brilliant woman and a wonderful officer. Most of all he appreciated the simplicity of their relationship. But at the same time he felt uneasy serving with someone who he was involved with. Certainly the fact that he was her commanding officer made him even more uneasy. What if on one mission she died? How would he ever forgive himself is such a situation was to arise? He had actually raised the subject with her at one point, and of course she had been very practical about it. It was simply a reality for people serving together on a Starfleet vessel.

Realizing that he was drifting off in thought, he turned back to look at T'Pel. She was now sitting up and staring at him silently. He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said. "That was wonderful." T'Pel allowed him a small smile and simply nodded her assent. She returned her serious gaze on him. She sat naked, with not the least bit of modesty; yet another of her admirable traits. "What are you thinking?" He asked, trying to decipher her expression and failing.

"I am wondering how much longer we will continue in this way," she said. Her eyes glittered in the dim light, and he wondered if he saw a glimpse of sadness.

He propped himself up to look at her with concern. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head at him in that way she had that made him feel decidedly unintelligent. "I will not always be content to be a substitute. Eventually this will not be enough for either of us."

Picard sat up fully, and suddenly feeling exposed, he pulled the covers around him. "T'Pel, you are certainly no substitute—"

"Jean-Luc," she interrupted calmly. "The only thing I expect from you is that you do not lie to me. I know that you love another. Please do not deny it."

He just looked at her in shock, eyebrows raised. He had no idea what to say. "How—how do you know this?"

"After the hearing, I saw you sitting with Beverly Howard."

Picard abruptly got out of bed and started to pull his clothes on with an air of annoyance and embarrassment. "That's it then? You saw me _sitting _with a woman and you knew I was in love with her?"

"Yes."

He finished pulling on his boots and sat down in a nearby chair with a sigh. He laughed at the situation, for he could hardly be angry with her for seeing the truth. It wasn't as though she was upset about it. Or was she? Clearly he was no more capable of understanding Vulcan women than he was Human women and yet they seemed to have no problem figuring him out. "So now what?" he said almost to himself. He would leave the fate of their relationship up to T'Pel, he supposed. She knew his secret, and had known it even before she showed interest in him. What was he supposed to do? "Beverly Howard is with Jack Crusher. No doubt you were aware of that as well," he said sardonically. She simply looked at him. "So as you can see, she is unavailable to me, and even if she were available, she is the most hard-headed, stubborn, argumentative person I have ever met, and beyond that she doesn't like me very much." He got up and walked toward the door and then walked back to face T'Pel. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that even if I did…love…her, and I'm not saying that I do-she doesn't love me and so it doesn't matter. Right?"

"Jean-Luc, I can see that it does in fact matter to you. You appear clearly agitated."

"Of course I'm agitated! We just had sex and you bring up Beverly Howard out of nowhere!"

T'Pel pulled on a loose fitting robe and sat on the edge of the bed. She had not intended to cause him distress. He had apparently forgotten that they shared a telepathic connection while intimate, and at some point during their encounter, particularly near the end, he was thinking of Ms. Howard. He did not have the discipline of a Vulcan and therefore he could not shield those thoughts from her even if he tried. Based on his alarmed reaction she decided against telling him why she had brought up the subject of Ms. Howard at that moment. He could not help his thoughts, and she did not blame him for thinking them.

"Look," said Picard coming closer to her and touching her shoulder. "T'Pel I…care about you and very much enjoy your company. I would like to continue this for as long as you would like to. But please, can we not talk about Beverly?"

"Very well," she agreed and touched her fingertips to his bowing her head slightly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Stargazer**

This was not the way he had ever expected to become a captain of a starship, and he wasn't sure he had ever wanted to command the Stargazer. He was still shocked by the death of Captain Horan, a man he considered to be a friend and mentor. The ship was a bucket of bolts, already outdated and no match for many of the new ships Starfleet was building. It would hardly be useful for deep space exploration for ten more years, and yet here he was at its helm. Apparently Starfleet expected him to fly it until it literally could fly no more. Battle scars along with constant upgrades to the propulsion and weapon systems left the whole ship with a patched feel to it.

Picard glanced around the bridge, at his crew. Certainly they had not let him down yet, and they seemed comfortable under his command. With Commander Warren no longer on the Stargazer life had become less combative. Warren had been demoted to Lt. Commander after lying under oath at the hearing concerning the Tholian incident and had yet to be reassigned to a ship. Some said the man's career was over. Picard did not wish Warren ill, and he felt pity for the man's blind ambition. Warren clearly would have done anything to command his own ship, but he had stepped over the line. Nevertheless Picard was very glad not to have him around anymore. Jack had been promoted to Second Officer and Starfleet had assigned him a new first officer, an Andorian named Zev. So far she had proven to be quite clever, and kept him on his toes.

He glanced at Jack again, who was at the ops station. Jack had recently returned to the Stargazer after a short leave and to say the least, he had been withdrawn since his return. He had made several attempts to take Jack aside, but the last few weeks had been busy for the whole crew. He decided if Jack wanted to talk, he would come to Picard, as he had done in the past. Recently each time he considered Jack's situation, his thoughts drifted back to what T'Pel had said not long ago about his feelings for Beverly. He realized with guilt that although he was concerned for his friend, he felt the problem Jack was having was almost certainly related to Beverly, and he wanted to hear what had happened to ensure that she was alright.

* * *

Later that evening, Picard stepped into his quarters and headed for his desk. He patched in a communications link for Earth. The screen was black for a moment, and then beeped and Walker Keel's sleepy face came on the screen. When he saw Jean-Luc his face crinkled into a smile.

"Walker," Picard said by way of greeting. He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "How are things? I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No of course not, it's great to see you Jean-Luc. I actually just finished teaching my last class for the evening."

"Never would have pictured you as a professor, but…it actually it makes sense now that I see you."

"Yes, well I am starting to miss being out in space, and eventually I will hop aboard another starship. But for now I enjoy the atmosphere here at the Academy. We've got some brilliant students coming through here, Jean-Luc." Walker was ten years older than Picard and although just shy of forty Walker's sideburns were already turning silver. At least he still had a full head of hair, which is something he occasionally reminded Picard of.

"Walker, I want to ask you something," Picard said quickly, his voice growing serious. "Have you been in touch with Beverly?"

Walker raised an eyebrow. "Jean-Luc, haven't you spoken to Jack since he returned from Earth?"

Picard felt his face redden with embarrassment. "No, I've tried, but it's been very hectic here Walker. Is everything alright?"

"Look, you should talk to Jack about it, but because you seem so concerned…they've taken a break for a while."  
"A break?" Picard felt his heart begin to speed up and his mind began to race. Walker watched him carefully.

"Jean-Luc, listen, I think it's only temporary. They plan to be together for a long time, but they've had a falling out. I think they just need some time to cool off and then they'll mend things."

"Yes," he heard himself say shakily, "I'm sure they will."

Walker smiled at him with empathy. "Jean-Luc, I know. I know that you care about her, but it's best to try and focus on other things, like your career."

"Walker, I have to go." He felt compressed, almost unable to breathe.

"Jean-Luc listen to me—"

"Goodbye Walker." As the screen blanked out he slammed his fist down on the desk.

* * *

**2347 Klingon Territory**

Guinan felt herself being roughly pushed down the ramp of the ship. She heard the other prisoners, who like her were blindfolded, walking stiffly behind her. Some were mumbling, speculating about where they had landed this time and whether this was hell or just yet another pit stop on the way to hell. They were soon to find out. The first thing that hit her was the frigid temperature. And the next thing that hit her was the eerie sound of wind whipping across what must have been a very flat plain. The cold air was sharp in her nose as she inhaled and when she exhaled out of her mouth her breath seemed to freeze in mid-air. She was forced to walk another hundred paces or so and then abruptly halted. Guards tugged on her handcuffs making sure that they were still secure. She heard Klingons talking their native language, heard Darok laughing. A sudden bolt of fear entered her body and she knew even before they said the words. Someone pulled the blindfold from her eyes and she was greeted by the dim shapes of several huge Klingons and an icy haze as though a storm was always present. The largest Klingon in front of her let out a low rumbling laugh and leaned forward to greet the newcomers. "Welcome scum! Welcome to Rura Penthe, the prisoner's graveyard!"


	20. Chapter 20

**2348 Stargazer**

Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Stargazer sat in silence in his quarters. A few minutes ago he had woken from a frightening dream. He had been trapped in a prison with violence and suffering all around him. There had been no way out, and toward the end of the dream he had decided to end his life. Horrified by his own thoughts he had traveled outside of his body, but when he saw himself, he was shocked to find he was not himself at all. Instead he was Guinan, alone in a prison cell. Now awake, he wondered if there was any truth to this dream. He had not seen or heard from his mysterious friend in a year. When she had left he had failed to help her when she had needed him most. Guilt invaded his psyche, but he was at a loss for what to do.

That he was at a loss was nothing new. Much had happened in the last year. To an outsider's view his career was on the upswing. After Captain Horan's death the Stargazer had intervened in a spreading civil war in the Terminus system. To the surprise of everyone including himself, Picard had secured his first diplomatic victory by convincing the feuding worlds to enter into a truce and share trading routes. Several months ago the Stargazer had again faced the Tholians and had again defeated them. The result had been a commendation by Starfleet which was now eyeing him as one of the premier captains in the Fleet. He had been injured in the attack when he struggled to extinguish a fire in Engineering. Similar to his first encounter with the Tholians he dislocated his arm and sustained another concussion along with painful burns. This time he felt his progress in healing was extremely slow and to his frustration he continued to have intermittent pain, particularly in his shoulder and head. His solution was to hide his discomfort as much as possible.

Early on in his healing process Jack announced he and Beverly were getting married and Jean-Luc had nearly gone off the deep-end. He had embarked on a short but intense whirlwind affair with one of Jack and Beverly's best friends, a young psychologist named Roslyn Schafer. Beverly and Jack were aware of the affair, but had said little about it, at least at first.

The hardest time for him had come when Jack and Beverly had married, less than one month ago. Things had gotten out of hand at the wedding when Roslyn had drunkenly confronted T'Pel about her involvement with Picard, and had given the wedding party a riveting account of each and every sexual encounter the two had experienced together, including one just before the wedding. After the reception Beverly had been furious with him and had cornered him before he could make an exit. For a few moments he literally thought she intended to strike him. Instead, with tears in her eyes, she had turned and left him alone to wallow in his misery. Jack had hidden it well, and had even tried to make a joke of it, but Picard could tell that his friend was disappointed in him. Not even Walker had been supportive. He was disappointed in himself, and moreover, he felt lost and empty inside. After returning to the Stargazer, T'Pel had quietly broken it off with him which seemed only fair.

He had taken command of the Stargazer and while outwardly he was stoic and authoritative, inside he was in turmoil. For someone who prided himself on control of his emotions, his destiny, and everything else, he was uncertain about the direction his life was taking. The result was that he had grown very separate from his crew and even his friends in a way that he had never been before in order to keep up appearances more than anything else. He had become, as the saying used to go, "all business". Aside from the public embarrassment he had faced at Jack's wedding, it may not have been obvious to many that his personal life was such a disaster. But he knew it was, and his preoccupation with a woman who was now married to his best friend had become a personal embarrassment for him even if only a few people knew his secret. He was determined to regain his dignity.

His communicator beeped. "Doctor Stak to Captain Picard," a confident voice spoke.

"Picard here, go ahead Doctor."

"Captain, I'd like to discuss the upcoming crew assignments with you as soon as you are free," he said sharply.

Picard rolled his eyes. When was he ever free? "Doctor, I will be _available_ to meet with you in about five hours. I will come to your office." A crew list hardly rated as a pressing issue. In fact it seemed odd that the Chief Medical Officer would even want to discuss crew assignments with him since the man kept such tight control of his sickbay that he rarely checked in with Picard about such minute details.

"Very well Captain, Stak out."


	21. Chapter 21

The remainder of that day was rather uneventful. Because of the lull in activity, Picard authorized First Officer Zev to run the crew through battle simulation drills for most of the day. Most of his crew was already battle hardened, but still it kept them fresh and ready for the next encounter.

While he made his way to Sick Bay he considered the sharp tone Dr. Stak had used with him earlier. He had seen little of Stak who had only recently returned from a sabbatical taken after the disaster in which Captain Horan had died tragically. Dr. Stak had been on duty when Horan's lifeless body had been brought to sickbay, and had later been responsible for completing the autopsy. He could have passed that duty on to one of his subordinates, but to have done so would not have been at all like Dr. Stak. That Dr. Stak and Captain Horan had been lovers for several years had only magnified the tragedy of Horan's death. Picard had approved Stak's bereavement leave as one of his first command duties following the first Tholian incident.

He had wondered since then if Stak resented Picard's promotion to Captain, which would not have come but for Horan's death. But Stak was a consummate professional, and Picard took his return to the Stargazer as a message that he was willing to serve with Picard despite the circumstances that led to his command of the Stargazer. Picard was well aware of the history of animosity and tension between most Captains and their CMOs. The authority held by the CMO, even over the Captain if need be, was sometimes too threatening for more than a few Captains to handle. Picard was sometimes arrogant even egotistical at his worst, but he was hardly insecure. He could respect the authority of the CMO and not feel threatened. In fact it would hardly do to have a timid chief doctor because of the importance of that position. Dr. Stak was confident, assertive and well-respected in his field. He could also, by reputation, be quite difficult to work for. So far, Picard had encountered little difficulty working _with _Dr. Stak, and he hoped that it would stay that way. He had deeply respected Captain Horan, and because of what Stak had meant to Horan, Picard intended to do his best to develop a good working relationship with Stak. Picard hoped that Stak had the same good intentions.

As Picard strode into Sick Bay he glanced around quickly noting how neat and tidy everything appeared. It was also quiet, which to Picard was always a good sign on a starship. He hesitated slightly before stepping into the doorway of Dr. Stak's office. "Please come in Captain," said the doctor waving him in. Stak was a man of smaller stature. His light brown skin, wavy hair and oval eyes reflected his multi-ethnic heritage.

Picard moved into the office and sat down smoothly. After a few more moments of watching Dr. Stak stare at the data tablets in front of him he raised expectant eyebrows. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

Stak looked up at him and put down a tablet he'd been studying. "Thank you for coming, Captain." He paused. "I hope you understand that I do not allow favoritism here in Sickbay among my officers, and I should like to avoid even the appearance of unfairness when it comes to running my department."

Picard was confused. "Of course I concur with that approach under any circumstances Doctor, but I'm not sure what this has to do with our meeting."

"It has everything to do with it Captain," he snapped. "Have you seen the latest physician intern applications for rotation in my sickbay?"

Picard felt himself growing slightly impatient. "Of course not, Doctor, and I don't necessarily need to see them. It is certainly within your authority to select the candidates as you see fit. If I have an objection to one of your selections, I will certainly let you know…."

Stak smiled thinly and slid one of the tablets across the table toward Picard. As he studied it, he felt a vein in his temple begin to pulse. "Dr. Beverly Crusher," he read aloud, and trying to mask his surprise, shoved the data pad back in Stak's direction. He felt Stak studying him. He knew Stak was friendly with T'Pel, and for a moment he wondered if T'Pel had confided in him about Picard's feelings for Beverly. But in the same moment he dismissed the idea. T'Pel was perhaps the most private person he knew, besides himself, and he doubted she would have said anything. "Is your concern that she's the spouse of my Second Officer?"

"Yes. _And_ my concern is that she is the best candidate and therefore I have to pick her. I just ask that I not be expected to compromise my command style just because she happens to be your best friend's wife—"

Picard stood up quickly. "Now look here, Doctor. I certainly appreciate you raising the subject, but please accept my assurance that Doctor Crusher will receive treatment no different than anyone else on board my ship. And knowing her as I do, she would expect nothing different."

Stak nodded. "I am very glad to hear that, Captain. She brings some impressive credentials for someone who hasn't yet graduated from Medical. In particular her work with Gerard Prager is quite impressive. I don't have an epidemiologist on board, and her expertise could come in handy. According to her record she has completed her officer's training an d after this six month internship she'll have less than one year left before graduation. I suppose we will see how she does…unless you have any objections to having her come aboard." Stak smiled at Picard innocently.

"Of course not, certainly she comes highly recommended," he said. But in his head he was compiling a long list of reasons why he did in fact object to having her come aboard.


	22. Chapter 22

Later that night Picard again sat in his quarters thinking about the day's events and how quickly things had changed since earlier that day when had resolved to reclaim his equilibrium. It infuriated him that she was to come aboard his own ship and he had little to say about it. He couldn't reveal his personal objections to anyone without making a fool of himself and ruining the few remaining relationships that mattered to him. When the door chime rang the first time, he was so preoccupied that he didn't hear it. The second time it rang, his head snapped up and he called out, "come in". In strode Jack Crusher looking agitated. He twisted his hands in front of him in a nervous manner.

Picard beckoned him in. "Have a seat, Jack" he said slowly. He decided to wait for Jack to speak. He felt angry, but wasn't sure if it was directed at Jack or himself.

"I suppose Dr. Stak already spoke with you?"

"Is there some reason why I had to hear it from Dr. Stak first? He made it seem as though I had pulled strings to bring your wife on board this ship. I didn't appreciate his insinuations."

"Jean-Luc, I'm sorry. I should have mentioned sooner that she'd applied."

"Well, it seems she will soon be joining us," said Picard. "Dr. Stak says she was the best candidate." Jack nodded with pride and it was obvious that he was ecstatic. His look of joy faltered slightly as he studied Picard.

"Captain you don't look very happy about this," Jack observed.

_And why should I?_ he thought, but said aloud "I'm happy for Beverly that she has this opportunity and that we will have the benefit of her considerable skills for six months."

"But…?"

"But you know my thoughts about having family aboard a starship."

"What about you and T'Pel? Or Captain Horan and Dr. Stak?" Jack's expression and tone were indignant. Picard stood up and stared out of the viewport. He felt his anger growing again and his headache had returned.

"It's not the same thing, Jack. When two officers are already serving together and they happen to become involved, that's different than bringing your civilian spouse aboard. I worry about the risks, Jack."

Jack's face became hard. "With all due respect, sir, she's _my _wife, I'll worry about the risks."

"Well I am Captain of this vessel and I will worry about the lives of every member of this crew whether you're married to them or not," snapped Picard. He sighed loudly. "Jack, I'm sorry, I just…didn't expect this news and it would have been better if you had told me earlier."

Jack looked down. "I already apologized once. I hope you don't want me to say I'm sorry that my wife is coming on board?"

Picard shook his head and sat back down. "No of course not." He fiddled with an antique pen which sat on his desk.

Jack's face grew calmer as they sat in silence a few more moments. "Jean-Luc, there was something else I wanted to mention, but I just wasn't sure how."

"Go ahead," Picard prompted evenly. He was struggling to keep his temper under control. Between the constant blistering headaches and the news that Beverly Crusher was coming on board, he was starting to feel quite ill.

Jack studied him carefully, still unsure how much he should tell his friend. "You remember when we—when Beverly and I broke it off for a few months?"

Picard stared at his hands. "Yes," he said simply, silently wishing for a change in subject. His head throbbed.

Jack took a deep breath. "Did Walker tell you anything about why we decided to split for a while?"

Picard looked up and his eyes narrowed. "No, he actually told me to ask you, but I decided it was none of my business. And you never brought up the subject so…" he trailed off, not sure where this conversation was headed.

Jack exhaled and sat back against the couch. He looked almost relieved. He laughed lightly as if remembering. "We had a falling out over our career plans, that's all. We just needed some time apart to figure out what we both wanted." He looked at Picard with a half-smile. "You know Walker with his big mouth—I just figured he had told you something else…."

Picard shook his head again. "No. He didn't tell me anything."

Jack nodded and smiled slapping his hands on his knees. "Well, I should go, it's getting late and I don't want to disturb you any longer." He stood up and then glanced back down at Picard, who he now realized did not look well. "Headaches still bothering you?" he said with concern.

Picard shrugged. "Off and on. I will be fine, thank you for asking."

Jack nodded as he backed toward the door. "Good night, sir," he said just as the doors swished shut.

* * *

Jack sat in his room studying a private message he had received from Walker Keel a few weeks ago following his wedding. He had yet to respond, and reading it again he wasn't even sure if he wanted to.

_Jack, I'm sure you're glad I waited until after your honeymoon to drop you a line. We both know Jean-Luc wasn't the only embarrassment at the wedding. Why on Earth didn't you tell Beverly? I thought we had an understanding. Beverly is my dear friend and I now every day I wonder why I didn't just do the right thing and tell her months ago about your night out. Now what, Jack? We all move forward like good friends while I keep your little secret? I'm not sure I can do that. Why don't you confess your secret to your best friend and see how he takes it?_

_Regards,_

_Walker_


	23. Chapter 23

**2348 Rura Penthe**

Guinan awoke in her cell and for the third day in a row, she had a splitting headache. On the upside, her headache was the most interesting thing to happen to her in weeks. She had no idea how long she had been imprisoned. At first she had been able to keep track of the time that had passed, but then the winter season had arrived. On a planet on which the average surface temperature was 50 degrees below zero, the winter season brought even colder temperatures and no daylight. Her days consisted of boredom, isolated in her cell.

Nearly forty years ago the dilithium mines had been depleted underneath the prison complex, and so the prisoners no longer had to engage in forced labor. However, the exploitation of the prisoners manifested itself at night. The warden and prison guards had created a makeshift arena over the years, and prisoners fought each night for a chance at freedom. Many times they fought until one or the other was injured or maimed. But only prisoners who defeated and killed his opponent would have even a chance at freedom. If the guard on duty spun the "wheel" to the Klingon number 1, following a victory, the prisoner was said to be sent from the prison back to his or her home world. Of course this rarely happened. Any prisoner could volunteer to fight, but the opponent was usually (and conveniently) picked by the prison officials.

Without the arena fights there was no chance of escape. Rura Penthe had always been known as "the graveyard" for a reason. The low temperature and vast wasteland made life outside the prison unsustainable for more than a few hours or perhaps days depending on the season. A shield encompassed the entire facility and only a select few knew the location of its power source. Legend had it that James Kirk had escaped the prison over fifty years ago, but since no one had escaped since then, few believed it was actually possible.

Guinan had no interest in fighting, but she didn't mind watching either. It was the basest form of entertainment, but what else was there in Rura Penthe? Mostly she watched closely the Klingons who ran the place. She had learned a great deal already about the politics of the group that ran the prison, and had determined that the allegiance of any one of them could be bought for the right price. Too bad at the moment her account held insufficient funds.

Many times she had dreamed about her friend Picard. The affection she had felt for him when he was a child had returned, perhaps because he was now out of reach. She imagined his career was going well and that he was happy exploring the stars. She had no expectation that she would see him any time in the near future, but she felt sure they would meet again.

* * *

**2348 Stargazer**

"Captain Picard, I did not expect you so soon," said Zev, First Officer of the Stargazer. As she turned to regard him her antenna also turned and actually pointed in his direction. Picard was used to the antennae by now, although he had initially been uncomfortable with the Andorian's extra appendages. It was as though she was staring at him with two extra eyes. She stood up from the Captain's chair, with a slight bow, as was customary for Andorians.

Picard smiled tightly. "Thank you Commander. Actually, I decided it would be more productive for me to catch up on my report from our last mission," he said, flipping up the control panel on the chair's armrest. He began to punch in a code to enter his logs.

"I see. Then you consider meeting Dr. Beverly Crusher in the transporter room to be a poor use of your time," she responded evenly. He glanced at her sharply. One thing about Zev he hadn't gotten used to was Zev's brutal honesty. It was said that when she was a teenager on the Andorian home world, Zev had nearly killed her opponent in a chess match when she determined he had tried to cheat.

Andorians highly valued straightforwardness and honesty in every setting. Her honesty was usually well-meaning if abrupt. And certainly since the penalty in Andorian society for not exercising honesty was sometimes death, he couldn't blame her for adhering to this practice so faithfully. Andorian society was highly militaristic and Picard had no doubts about her loyalty to him as her commanding officer. He did sympathize with her subordinates, however.

"No, Commander that is not what I meant," he snapped. Zev looked at him skeptically, but apparently decided pressing for the truth would not be a good use of her time in this instance.

She sat forward slightly as she watched Picard type into his keypad. "I am looking forward to meeting Doctor Crusher. She is partially responsible for helping to develop the cure for the Andos plague on my home world. I should like to personally thank her for the aid she has given my people. You must be proud to have such a friend."

He did feel a swell of pride at that, and could not help but smile. "Yes I am," he said quietly.


	24. Chapter 24

Q was hardly impressed. Jean-Luc Picard's career was on the rise, yet even from Q's distant vantage point, the human's progress was a constant stop and start. He was a grown adult, and yet Q saw no signs of a person capable of saving his own race, let alone himself. He was selfish and almost completely focused on his inner turmoil. Picard needed to believe in something greater than him, that the universe was at work, and not just a place for him to fly his ship around in. That was where Guinan had come in, for she was one of the few things in Picard's life that he could not explain, that he had not planned for.

Q certainly hadn't meant for Guinan to be imprisoned in one of the Klingon Empire's most notorious prisons. But it had meant for her to be captured by Darok, if anything because Q was not pleased she had chosen to defy it, to back out of her end of the deal to monitor Picard. Guinan had always known that by agreeing to keep an eye on Picard as he grew and matured as a human being, that she would in exchange have the benefit again of the deep bond she had shared with her son, who had been stolen away from her by the Borg many years before. And yet, she had chosen to walk away from the deal once she had come to doubt the goodness of Q's intentions.

She had been very wrong, for Q had nothing but Picard's welfare, and really the welfare of humanity in mind. That her mind was too small to see this was irritating, but not Q's concern. Perhaps she believed that she could continue to befriend Picard without the "strings attached" so to speak and that Q would somehow forget, as if it were possible for Q to forget even the most insignificant of items!

Q would not forget that Guinan had agreed to let it choose the time and place of her demise. Perhaps she believed that Rura Penthe would be that place; that Q had sent her there to wither and die. Oh how unoriginal and mundane! One thing was for sure: she did Q no good in that place, but Q would not be the one to get her out of there. No, there was another way.

* * *

Picard had somehow managed to avoid being alone with Beverly Crusher for two full weeks. Yes, he had joined Jack and Beverly for dinner a few times since she had come aboard, and had even given her a tour of the bridge after she had asked repeatedly, but there had always been someone there. He knew that this wouldn't last, and since he was not an adolescent, he decided to face his fear head on. It was the end of his duty shift and in truth he had a splitting headache and hoped that Dr. Stak had something on hand to take care of it. And if he happened to run into Beverly, well then so be it.

It was evening, and sickbay was quiet and the lights had been turned down. He was strolling toward Dr. Stak's office, when he heard a clear voice call out to him. "Captain, what a pleasant surprise," said Beverly Crusher, lifting protective goggles away from her eyes and moving away from some experimental device she was monitoring. She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Dr. Stak told me not to expect you in here until…well whenever your next mandatory physical is," she said with a sweet smile.

"Eight months and 23 days to be precise," said Picard returning her smile. He cleared his throat. "And is Dr. Stak here?"

Crusher shook her head. "No he's off duty. Anything I can do for you?" She stared at him expectantly. Her lip began to quiver with restrained amusement as his continued silence became awkward. "Okay, let me guess and take some of the pressure off of you…you pulled a muscle, your stomach hurts, you have a really bad hangnail—"

"It's my head, actually," he interrupted. "I have a headache."

She nodded, pressing her lips together. "Jack told me you were having trouble," she murmured. She beckoned him toward one of the examination tables. "Listen why don't you have a seat, Captain, and I'll be right back." He sat down on the edge of the table, as she quickly exited the room. When she returned, she was holding a hypo spray and a scanner. She ran the scanner over his head and frowned. "Have you had trouble sleeping?" He shrugged and she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What about nausea?" He shook his head "no".

"Hold still and don't blink," she ordered, gripping his chin. She ran the scanner over his eyes leaning toward him as she did so. She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his face. Finally after what seemed like minutes, she stood up straighter and patted him on the shoulder. He blinked, and finally allowed himself to breathe.

"Captain, you have what has been long known as post-concussion syndrome. You've had two concussions within the last year and it has taken a toll on you. Your persistent headaches are a symptom, and unfortunately they are difficult to treat. The best thing for you now is rest. Captain, you're not 20 anymore and you can't go tumbling around on the bridge or getting caught in explosions in engineering."

He looked at her. "You're not serious, are you? I live on a starship, these things are just part of my life."

"Yes, but perhaps you don't have so much to prove anymore, Captain," she said gently. "I mean, you are now the Captain…maybe you should avoid being at the center of the action so much. You're crew is depending on you to lead them, not die for them." She smiled, but her tone was dead serious.

He stared at her as though she was speaking another language. "Hmm," was all he said.

She fought her frustration, but felt oddly amused by his obliviousness. "Well," she said, putting the hypo spray in his hand. "Give yourself a shot of this twice a day, once when you wake up and once before you go to bed. It will run out in about a week, and when it does, I want you to come back and we'll talk about how you are doing. Don't worry, Jean-Luc, I won't expect much conversation," she said as he got up from the table still looking at the hypo in his hand.

He walked toward the door and then turned abruptly. "Beverly," he called out, and she turned to look at him. For a second he almost froze before continuing. "I'm glad you are here."

She broke into a wonderful smile. "Me too," she said.


	25. Chapter 25

As the weeks went on, Picard and Crusher saw much more of each other, and they even began to develop a more comfortable rapport. Jack had actually encouraged this with his weekly card games and the atmosphere seemed noticeably improved and relaxed. Picard was only too happy to come to the games because he could relax and see both of his friends without the guilt and risk he felt when he was alone with Beverly.

His headaches had hardly improved, which kept him going to sickbay on such a regular basis that he thought Dr. Stak had begun to look at him suspiciously when he arrived. He told himself that he was going to sickbay for his persistent headache, but he could not deny that prior to Beverly's arrival aboard the Stargazer he'd done nothing but suffer in silence. The truth was that he craved her company to the point of distraction.

This change was not lost on Dr. Stak, who was among other things, very observant. He noticed the Captain's exterior soften noticeably when Crusher was in his vicinity, just as he noticed that his intern tended to act out slightly more when Picard was around. She was still young, after all, and completely willful. To Stak, her talents and potential were boundless. He questioned why someone with her career in front of her, who was so mature and full of skill would marry so young. And he was at a loss for why she had chosen someone like Jack Crusher. Perhaps, he decided, it added to her complexity as a person.

Despite his respect for Beverly Crusher, was still getting used to her presence in his sickbay. Picard wandered in one day during a particularly turbulent argument. Dr. Stak was waving his index finger in Beverly Crusher's face.

"Sloppy, Doctor, very sloppy," Stak accused. "I have an order to my sickbay, which you appear to delight in ruining. I can't find my instruments, my files; I can't even find my staff! Where is the charge nurse?"

"I told him to leave for the night. There was no work for him to do, and frankly he was getting in my way…sir," Beverly added as an afterthought, glancing at Picard. He tightened his face to keep from smiling.

"You seem to conveniently forget, and on a regular basis, I might add, that you have NO authority to order my staff around," barked Dr. Stak.

"And you seem to forget that you left me in charge when you went off shift today. Maybe you should just tell your staff not to take orders from me," Crusher shot back.

"Listen here my young friend—"

Picard stepped forward in between them. "That's enough, both of you," snapped Picard. "You're acting like bickering children."

"Quite right Captain, she clearly brings out the worst in me," said Dr. Stak, and stalked back in to his office.

* * *

Beverly stood, arms folded over her chest glaring after Dr. Stak. Picard cleared his throat and she turned her glare on him. Apparently she did not appreciate him interrupting her argument before she had won. She walked over to a table and picked up an item. When she returned, she held it out to Picard. It was the hypo spray she had prescribed for his headaches. "This is why you came down here, right?" She slapped it into his hand, when he reached for it.

He took a deep breath to control his temper. "Yes, but…"

She shook her head, as she turned away. "I'm sorry Captain, I don't have time to talk with you today."

Picard felt a wave of embarrassment and his face suddenly felt very hot. "If you think that I come down here every week just to chat with you Beverly, you are mistaken." She stared at him coldly, but didn't respond. "I'll be returning to my duties then," he said, backing toward the door.

* * *

That night Picard dreamed that he was trapped in a cold, dark space unable to move. The ceiling and walls began to steadily close in on him. He knew that soon enough he would be crushed. He shouted, but his voice reverberated back at him uselessly. He knew no one could hear him. He heard Klingon voices, but could only make out some of what they were saying. He yelled for them to help him, but they only laughed at him. When he awoke his muscles were stiff and he was shivering so much that his teeth were chattering. His headache had returned and he felt as though a steel blade was slowly piercing his temple. He pulled the covers over his head and curled up in a ball until he warmed up enough to fall back asleep.

* * *

Two weeks later, after returning from a diplomatic mission, Picard sat in the shuttle craft for a few minutes before stepping out into the docking bay. Strangely he felt like a visitor to his own ship. He also felt ill. His headaches persisted and nothing seemed to remedy them. The hypo spray Beverly had given him had run out, but Picard's pride kept him from returning to sick bay to ask for a re-fill.

His head was killing him, but Beverly Crusher's comment had shaken him to his core. In a moment of irritation she had dismissed him from her presence with a simple sentence and made clear that she was aware of the real reason he went to sickbay; to see her. He found he was at a loss of how to contemplate his relationship with her which was sometimes wonderful and other times completely awkward.

Beyond that he was a Captain and she was a cadet, and every time he was near her he felt that his behavior was more determined by his personal feelings than his professional attitude. Nowhere else in his life did he have that dilemma. Even his relationship with Jack had never been damaged by their difference in rank, and yet he felt it would be damaged eventually by his feelings for Beverly Crusher because try as he might, he could not stop how he felt. He now admitted that he was still in love with her, but that got him nowhere because at every turn he was met with either desire or guilt, sometimes both.

* * *

He decided to stop at the gym for a workout before getting something to eat. Jack was there, hitting a heavy bag. As Picard walked closer he could see that Jack seemed preoccupied with something; he grimly struck at the inanimate enemy as though it was a problem to be solved. Jack smiled and turned as Picard approached. "Sir," he acknowledged and then returned to his workout but with less focus.

Picard began to stretch for a run, when Jack suddenly stopped hitting the punching bag and turned back to Picard. He stepped to a corner and picked up a pair of gloves. He tossed them to Picard. "Care to go a couple of rounds?" He grinned at Picard seeming to dare him. They had not sparred for years, certainly not since they were at the Academy. He smiled back at Jack, and grabbed the gloves without another word. The small boxing ring was empty, so they both climbed in.

Jack began to dance around him, even as he was still pulling on the tight gloves. He put his hands up defensively as Jack circled him. Jack was tall and slim, and had a longer reach, but Picard was short and wiry with a quicker step. He moved to the left as Jack swung a blow past his right ear. He felt a brief flash of surprise, as he realized Jack was serious. He brought his left hand around in a hook, which connected underneath Jack's armpit. Jack grunted and spun around to move out of reach. Picard pursued him with his right hand leading. Jack bobbed forward quickly and hit Picard with a glancing blow on his right shoulder. Picard felt his breathing become labored as he moved around the ring.

"Beverly tells me you've stopped going to sickbay," Jack said, jogging backwards. Picard advanced, throwing a jab that Jack easily dodged.

"I've been negotiating a treaty for the last five days, Jack. Sickbay hasn't exactly been within reach."

"Yes, and Beverly tells me your prescription ran out two days before you left," Jack, feinted a blow, and Picard staggered back, off balance by the fake and the topic of conversation. "Headaches gone already?"

"Yes," Picard lied, throwing a left and then a right toward Jack's head, the right just grazing his friend's jawline as Jack stepped back too slowly.

"With all due respect, sir, I think you're lying," said Jack. Picard began to get annoyed. "Too be honest with you, I think you're avoiding my wife."

Picard dropped his hands. "What the hell are you talking about?" Jack stared at him with an expression he had never seen. For a moment he thought he saw a brief glimpse of hatred in his friend's eyes and it startled him.

"I don't know, Jean-Luc; why don't you tell me?" said Jack accusingly.

Picard wiped the sweat out of his eyes, and began to pull off his gloves angrily. "I think we're done here," he said, starting to walk out of the ring.

Jack moved to stand in his way. "I give her everything she needs," he said in a low voice. He moved closer toward Picard until they were eye to eye. "I hope you don't forget that…sir". Picard stared back at him speechless.

Picard shoved him out of the way and climbed down out of the ring. He stopped and turned around to face Jack before exiting the gym. "I don't think I will ever forget what just transpired…Commander."


	26. Chapter 26

Picard stomped around his quarters. Even after taking a shower he was not even close to being calm, after what had happened with Jack earlier that evening. What he had done to cause this sudden show of jealousy from Jack, he wondered. It wasn't like Jack to be anything but light-hearted, and yet he had clearly wanted to knock Picard's head in. The more he considered it, the more he wished he had knocked Jack on his ass instead of walking away. He pulled on a loose shirt and pants and poured himself a cup of tea.

The door chime sounded and he growled, "Come in!" In marched Beverly Crusher, looking flushed and upset. He didn't spare the pretense. "What do you want?" he demanded setting his tea down with a clatter.

"Jack just told me what happened," she snapped. Picard smiled slightly; he was sure that Jack hadn't told her everything. "What the hell do you two think you're doing fighting? Especially you, you have a medical condition," she accused.

"Don't worry, Beverly, we weren't fighting over you, if that is your concern." Her face flushed pink and he noted she was beginning to look a bit dangerous.

"My _concern_ is that you are both acting like idiots."

Picard picked up his tea cup again. "I could pull rank, but somehow I don't think it would matter to you," he murmured.

"No it wouldn't, not in this instance," she said. She moved closer to him, arms folded. "Now tell me…what made Jack so angry?" She asked.

He looked at her intently. "Hmm. How should I put this? He accused me of 'avoiding' you—"

"Are you?" She demanded, moving closer to him. He moved away slightly.

"Perhaps," he said quietly. "And so what if I am? Does that matter to you?"

"Maybe it does," she said indignantly. "I thought we were going to try and be friends, Jean-Luc."

He shrugged. "I think that right now might be a good time for you to go and find your husband," he suggested, sitting back on the edge of his desk.

"Why?" She challenged. "What are you afraid of? Me?" She laughed as though the idea was ridiculous.

He cleared his throat, and looked at her. "The truth is I don't think that I know how to be your friend, Beverly," he said softly, looking down at the floor. Then he began to feel it, that feeling again, as though he were being drawn to her like a magnet.

"Jean-Luc," she laughed slightly, and took his hand. "Don't be silly…" It happened then, as she took his hand, he pulled her to him and kissed her insistently. To his shock, she didn't object, but instead returned the kiss fiercely, grabbing the back of his neck. She wound her other hand around behind him and pressed her fingertips into his back. He imagined later on that it would have continued like this, had his communicator not beeped. "Captain Picard to the bridge," came the First Officer's clipped tone. They both staggered backward as if repelled by electricity. He instantly regretted what he had done, and saw the same doubt reflected in her eyes. She turned and nearly ran from his quarters, and of course he didn't try to stop her.

* * *

The next day, Picard sat on the bridge in his command chair. The day had started with a near skirmish with a Ferengi trading ship. The incident had been resolved to Picard's satisfaction, with the Ferengi eventually leaving the system and with no bloodshed. Since then, the crew had calmly settled back into its routine. Meanwhile, Picard's mind was preoccupied with his recent interactions with Jack and Beverly. He now questioned his approval of Beverly's internship, and his own behavior toward her. He wished that he could reverse the events of the past two days. Jack hadn't made eye contact, and after what happened with Beverly last night, he was relieved.

"Captain," said Jack. "A subspace message is coming in through your private channel. It's marked urgent."

Picard jumped up from his chair. "I will take it in the conference room, thank you." Once in the room he touched the terminal as he seated himself at the table, and the screen blinked on. It was his old friend Walker Keel. His instant smile at seeing Walker faded when he saw the grave look on his friend's face.

"Jean-Luc, it's good to see you," said Walker fondly. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He looked prematurely aged and quite stressed for a man enjoying the life of an Academy professor. The two men had not seen each other since the wedding, and Picard had to work to keep the embarrassing memory of that event from clouding his thoughts or his expression. He hoped that Walker would have the courtesy not to mention it.

"I know Walker, we have to stop meeting through a console. So what can I do for you?"

Walker got right to the point. "Jean-Luc I haven't been entirely honest with you and Jack about my…profession."

Picard raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Jean-Luc, I have been teaching at the Academy, but I've also been working for Starfleet Intelligence for several years. About a year ago—around the time you took command of the Stargazer, we picked up some intelligence I think you might be interested in."

Picard was stunned by the revelation that Walker had been working Intel all this time. He had more than a few questions for his old friend, but he held back for now. He merely waited for Walker to speak again.

"Jean-Luc, it's about your friend Guinan." Picard felt a sudden pain in his heart and again, as he had for months, began to fear the worst. "Darok grabbed the attention of Starfleet years ago. He's made a name for himself trafficking illegal goods, substances and sometimes even living beings." Picard nodded. Of course Guinan had told him all of this. "Then about a year ago, Darok dropped off Guinan, along with a whole ship full of other prisoners, at Rura Penthe."

"What the hell...the Klingon prison colony?" Picard's eyes narrowed. "Walker how long have you known all of this?"

"I was only brought up to speed a few months ago, Jean-Luc, and that's the honest truth."

"Yes, but why is Intelligence even interested in this group of prisoners?" He was unsure what to believe at this point.

Walker looked at him carefully. "Jean-Luc anything else I tell you here cannot leave this room. I'm only authorized to tell you the minimum…for right now that is."

"Understood, go on," Picard said in a clipped tone. He was beginning to tire of this secrecy, particularly where his friend was at risk in a cold prison cell far away.

"One of our operatives was on that ship, and about two months ago we lost contact with him. We thought since Guinan was on the same ship…"

"You thought what?"

"We thought she might have some information on what happened to him." Walker's expression was an attempt at neutrality, but Picard didn't believe it. In fact, for the first time since he first met him, Picard did not trust Walker.

"Have you been able to communicate with her?" Picard studied his friend's blank expression and began to feel angry. "Walker, you don't know if she's even alive do you? I don't have any information from Guinan, and I haven't heard from her in months. Is this why you called me, to gather more 'intelligence'? I am going to go and bring her back," he said with a sudden grim determination. She'd asked him for help a year ago and he had let her down. She'd been captured and was now trapped in a violent world, that is, if she was still alive.

Walker shook his head. "Look Jean-Luc, calm down, and think rationally, please. You know as well as I do that you won't get authorization to take this ship into Klingon territory to rescue one person."

"So then what do you propose? I sit here and do nothing?"

"Jean-Luc, you might not escape that place alive…." He and Picard continued to stare each other down with neither one wavering. Gradually Walker began to have a glimmer in his eye. "Starfleet Intel wants to retrieve its operative, Jean-Luc. If you're willing to do some intelligence work while you are there, I can get you safely to the planet. After that I can't say what will happen. It's up to you, Jean-Luc, but the official story will be that you've left this ship on Starfleet orders. You won't be allowed to tell your crew exactly where you are going."

Picard nodded grimly. "How soon can you get me a transport?"


	27. Chapter 27

**2367 Enterprise**

"How much longer?" asked Riker, solemnly staring down at the small figure as she slept. She seemed at peace, which was in sharp contrast to everyone else around her.

Doctor Crusher looked up grimly. "A few days at the most," she said. Nothing she had tried had worked to help Guinan, and now she was slowly slipping away. Everything about the situation made Crusher believe that her patient had given up. After all, a few days ago she had awoken just to inform everyone that she was dying, had seemed completely accepting of that fact, and then had slipped back into a coma.

And Jean-Luc's absence hadn't helped Beverly's confidence in the situation. He hadn't returned to sick bay since Guinan had informed him that she was dying. He had gone from doting friend to nowhere to be found. Well, in truth he was likely to be found on the Bridge. Maybe he believed he couldn't change the circumstances; that it was too late. Perhaps he was right, but that was no reason to abandon his long-time friend.

She turned to Riker. "Why don't you try talking to him, Will? If he has the kind of bond with her that he seems to it might actually help her to have him nearby. If he weren't so damn stubborn…." The truth was she was still angry with Jean-Luc after the other night when he had essentially told her he was perfectly satisfied with their tortured and incomplete relationship. She knew he didn't believe what he was saying, and yet he had said it anyway. That really infuriated her because she had tried to be honest with him and in response he had put up another wall.

Riker smiled slightly. Why did this feel like a set-up? The Doctor and Captain were not getting along and now he was being asked to relay a message from one to the other. But he agreed with Crusher. Picard had a bond with Guinan that was unexplainable and throughout their mysterious history had apparently been unbreakable. If having him by her side would make a difference in her failing health, he should be there. He inhaled and grinned down at Crusher, touching her shoulder tenderly. "I'll give it a try, Doctor."

* * *

Picard stood with his hand resting on the Ops station. He was speaking quietly with Data and did not look up as Riker stepped on to the bridge. Riker's eyes rested on the view screen, which held an amazing spectacle. Riker had left the bridge just a half an hour before and all that had been on the screen was black space. Now, out of the void of space, a purplish cloud had appeared directly in front of the Enterprise stretching out in all directions.

"What is it?" Riker asked, unable to take his eyes off of the screen. Simultaneously, Picard and Data looked up from their conversation.

Picard glanced at Data. "Unknown, Commander," replied Data, turning in his chair to face Riker. He tilted his head as though something had just occurred to him. Riker wondered briefly if the android's characteristic head tilt was part of his personality—so to speak—or whether Data had observed someone tilt their head curiously once and incorporated into his operating systems. "However we do know one thing about this cloud; it has no mass."

"If it has no mass then is it a hologram? How can something that big have no mass?" Riker was incredulous. Data merely raised his eyebrows in answer.

"Well if it has no mass then we shouldn't have any trouble passing through it," said Picard turning and walking back to his seat. "Ahead full impulse, Ensign," he said sitting down in his chair.

"Aye sir", said Wesley Crusher, deftly maneuvering the ship forward into the void.

"Well?" Picard rumbled, lifting himself out of his chair and walking forward. "Are we through?"

"Negative, Captain," said Crusher sounding confused. "We're…inside of it, sir." Sure enough, purple tendrils swirled around the view screen and the expanse of the cloud seemed to stretch on and on without limit.

"How can we be inside something that doesn't exist?" questioned Riker in irritation.

Picard stared ahead, feet planted and arms folded over his chest. His face bore the kind of frown that showed he was more puzzled than disturbed; for now. "Ensign…reverse our course to the point where we entered the cloud and stop. Full impulse: same as before."

The young man complied, but then turned to regard the captain with a look of worry. "Captain we're still inside the cloud. It's as though our position never changed."

"On the contrary, Mr. Crusher," said Data evenly, his graceful fingers moving over his console. "Our course changed and the Enterprise moved as you directed it to. However, it appears that the cloud has matched our movements—precisely so," he added.

Riker turned to Picard. "Could there be intelligence at work here?" He wondered out loud. Picard shrugged and looked pensive. Riker frowned. "Computer, what is the status of the ship's operating systems?"

"All systems operating at normal efficiency levels, Commander," reported the computer.

"Data can you determine whether we are at any immediate risk from this…thing?" asked Picard.

"The ship's sensors show no immediate risk of danger Captain," responded Data. "The ship's readings show exactly the same radiation and energy levels as before we entered the cloud, and the composition of the space we are in is not markedly different than when we were outside of the cloud."

Picard nodded. It was a strange set of circumstances, but for now not an urgent one. More than anything, the cloud reminded him of something he had experienced long ago, and yet he couldn't explain why.

"Mr. Data, help Mr. Crusher to program coordinates for the ship to make as many attempts to travel out as necessary for us to travel out of…whatever this is. Stop the exercise after one hour if we are still immersed in this cloud. Let me know of any change in our status," he said stepping briskly toward his Ready Room.

* * *

Riker hesitated and then followed him before the door swished shut. Picard turned to regard him with mild annoyance. Riker lowered his voice. "Sir, could I speak with you for a moment?" Picard didn't answer but nodded, stepping through the door.

Once inside his office, Picard sat down behind his desk. He noted Riker's agitated appearance, which was quite unlike his first officer. "Yes?" He prompted with raised eyebrows.

Riker shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, it's about Guinan," he began, hesitant as though he expected Picard to interrupt him, but instead was fixed with the Captain's piercing gaze. "Have you considered that it might help her to visit her more often, now that she's…well she's…"

"Dying?" Picard finished Riker's awkward sentence for him. "Yes, she is dying, Number One and I have come to terms with that. As cold-hearted as that may seem to you…and perhaps to other members of the crew," he added, interlacing his fingers on the table in front of him. "So, no, I do not see how spending more time with her will change the fact of her impending death. I stayed at her bedside for days and that did not cause her condition to improve."

"But sir, even if she's beyond hope it's possible that she will feel your presence and that will make her passing more comfortable," insisted Riker. Picard's expression remained unreadable. Riker was somewhat surprised at Picard's seemingly callous response to the grave illness of someone he clearly cared for. But Riker hardly felt that it was his place to question whether Picard was being truthful or whether he was simply deflecting Riker's questions.

"Commander, did Doctor Crusher put you up to this?" Picard said suddenly, his eyes searching Riker's for the answer he already knew.

Riker sighed. "Not exactly, Captain. I do agree with her that you might be the only one who can make a difference to Guinan right now."

"Do you even hear what you're saying?" Picard demanded stridently as he stood up from his desk. "The doctor must have really thrown in the towel at this point if she's pinning all of her hopes on me," he said bitterly.

"Doctor Crusher believes—"

Picard held his hands up. "Commander—Will…look I am trying very hard not to shoot the messenger here, so to speak, but I need Doctor Crusher to use her medical skills to help heal Guinan, and if that is not possible, I need her to leave me the hell alone and stop meddling. I won't be made to feel guilty about this." He moved to the window behind his desk and leaned against the wall, staring out into space. He was quiet for a moment and Riker thought he could see his eyes grow cloudy. "You lost your mother at a very young age, didn't you?" He murmured, almost under his breath.

Riker blinked in surprise and nodded. "Yes," he replied quietly.

Picard nodded grimly, still staring out the window. "My own mother died many years ago as well, when I was still a young man, just after I entered the Academy." He paused. "I have known Guinan since I was a child and yet my mother never knew of her presence in my life." He paused. "Perhaps I never told her because Guinan seemed to understand me more easily than any other adult present in my life at the time, including my mother" he said, his voice now nearly a whisper. Riker stepped closer in order to hear him. "The death of one's mother is something so profound that I doubt anyone ever really moves beyond it. Why would I want to experience that twice in one lifetime?" He looked at Riker almost pleadingly.


	28. Chapter 28

**2348 Stargazer**

"Doctor Crusher, you can sign off for tonight, everything is in order here," said Dr. Stak, approaching Beverly Crusher. His physician intern was busy stacking medical supplies on a shelf. It seemed that at any moment she was busy at something. While he had grown to admire her work ethic, he didn't need her overworked. Earlier in the day, Stak, Crusher, Science Officer T'Pel and a number of nurses had returned from a Federation planet struck by a seasonal famine. The planetary government had requested food and medical assistance.

After delivering replicators and medical supplies to the planet they had beamed up those in the greatest need, and had been treating them for malnutrition and dehydration. Stak was now satisfied that even the sickest patients were now in stable condition. As he came closer to Dr. Crusher, he noted that her color was very pale. Clearly she needed rest. "Doctor," he snapped, when she still had not responded. "Do I have to order you to your quarters for rest?"

Crusher smiled weakly at him. "no of course not sir," she said, grabbing her data pad from a nearby station. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said walking past him.

"Crusher," Dr. Stak called after her almost as an afterthought. She turned expectantly. "You are turning out to be a very fine doctor," he said.

Crusher smiled, knowing a real compliment from Stak meant something. Stak rarely had anything pleasant to say to his subordinates, particularly to her. "Thank you sir," she said with genuine appreciation.

"You are also an incredibly stubborn person," he added with a slight smirk.

"Thank you sir," she said just as graciously, and turned to leave.

* * *

As Beverly Crusher made her way down the corridors of the Stargazer and back to the living quarters she shared with Jack, she began to feel worse and worse. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her as she rounded a corner and nearly collided with T'Pel. "Oh! I am so sorry," apologized Beverly, cursing herself for getting lost in her own misery to the point that she wasn't looking where she was going. She'd had more contact with T'Pel today on the away mission and now in this hallway, than she'd had in the few months she had been on the Stargazer. She knew, of course, that T'Pel and Picard had been involved for a series of months, but beyond that, she knew little of the woman. It was no coincidence she supposed that she was thinking of Jean-Luc Picard at this moment, as T'Pel seemed to be sizing her up. And although Beverly was rarely intimidated by anyone, she felt something now, some discomfort, and she really couldn't tell if it was coming from her or from T'Pel.

T'Pel, was as always, unflappable. She regarded the young doctor carefully. Yes, she could see what Picard saw in this woman. She was intelligent, beautiful, almost regally so, and based on T'Pel's experience working alongside her down on the planet that day, she was brave as well. There was also a hint of a wry sense of humor just below the surface that T'Pel guessed Crusher always held at the ready in case the situation required it. "Good evening Doctor Crusher," T'Pel said with gave a slight bow of her head, indicating that no harm had been done. "There is no reason to apologize." T'Pel frowned as she studied the young woman's drawn expression. "Are you unwell?"

"Oh, no, no I am fine, I just need to get back to my quarters," mumbled Crusher, wiping her damp brow with the back of her hand.

T'Pel seemed to make a decision. "Perhaps I should walk you back to your quarters to ensure that you arrive there safely," she said, and since Beverly did not object, the two women fell into step beside each other.

Beverly found her mind nervously racing for things to talk about. Unfortunately, her mind rested on an incredibly awkward subject, and probably due in part to her slight fever, she spoke her thoughts. "I've been meaning to apologize for that awful scene at my wedding…."

"Doctor, do you always apologize for things you have no control over?" T'Pel's lips curled into the slightest smile, surprising Beverly who had never seen a Vulcan smile before, and actually she had doubted it was possible before now.

"It was not you who made a…'scene' as you have referred to it, and I would surmise that it had a more undesirable effect on you, as it was your wedding celebration, and not mine."

"True, but Roslyn is my friend, and she had no right to just make herself the center of attention like that. She's always been that way, but I had no idea she would do what she did. Besides, if it had anything to do with you breaking it off with Jean-Luc—I mean Captain Picard, then I truly am sorry."

T'Pel raised an eyebrow. "Your interest in this subject is rather unexpected," said T'Pel mildly, giving Beverly a sideways glance. "However I am not averse to discussing it, as you wish. If you are suggesting that I may have decided to disassociate myself from Captain Picard because of what transpired at the wedding, then you are partly correct. However, I was already aware that he had engaged in sexual relations with Roslyn Schafer prior to that incident, and so her declaration was hardly a revelation. Nevertheless, Ms. Schafer's insistence on providing the wedding guests with such an explicit description of her sexual conduct with Captain Picard was perhaps unwarranted," T'Pel added.

Beverly was still stuck on something T'Pel had said earlier. "You knew he was having an affair with her already?" She was shocked at that. If she ever found out that Jack had cheated on her—well she certainly wouldn't have looked the other way.

T'Pel suddenly stopped as they had arrived at Beverly's quarters. "I am afraid you might have a misunderstanding of the relationship I shared with Captain Picard. Jean-Luc was no more committed to me as a long-term partner than he was to Roslyn Schafer. However, the time we spent together was meaningful. He is a unique person," she observed evenly.

"Of course," Beverly said, unable to tell whether the heat in her face was from her fever or the topic of conversation. "I didn't mean to imply anything negative about your relationship T'Pel; I suppose I was just curious."

T'Pel nodded. "I am Vulcan, Doctor, and I have no inclination to be offended."

Beverly smiled and cleared her throat. "Well, thank you for walking me back to my quarters. I'm sure I will feel better once I get some rest." She turned away.

"T'Atlem root," said T'Pel, causing Crusher to turn back to her in confusion.

"What?"

She realized at that moment how perceptive T'Pel's eyes were, and at the moment they were also filled with compassion. "T'Atlem root is often used by Vulcan women to ease nausea during the early stages of pregnancy. I may be able to synthesize an adequate substitute in my lab and I will bring it to you."

Beverly's mouth hung open as the science officer turned and headed calmly back in the opposite direction. She hadn't even told Jack yet….


	29. Chapter 29

"I have some news I think you'd like to hear," said Picard as he stepped into the turbo lift with Jack Crusher. "We'll be seeing an old friend soon—Walker is coming aboard."

Jack practically jumped. "What?" Picard observed that Jack seemed surprised alright, but his expression could hardly be described as one of joyful anticipation for Walker Keel's arrival, and this troubled Picard. Jack's odd behavior some days ago, combined with Jean-Luc and Beverly's intimate encounter that same night had thrown Picard's sense of balance out of whack. He had no idea whether his relationships with Jack and Beverly could climb out of their current tailspin, but he had hoped that a reunion with Walker might help bring things back to the way they had been. Truthfully, he was aware that things really never would be the same.

"I said…Walker will be coming aboard in a few days," Picard replied cautiously as he studied his friend. At this point, he expected some jealousy from Jack, but Picard was surprised to find an additional layer of hostility at the mention of Walker's name. He was coming to terms with Jack's suspicion of his attraction to Beverly, which explained why Jack had challenged him in the boxing ring. Because of that encounter and what had followed, Picard had begun to distance himself from the couple. They had stopped their weekly card games and frequent dinners, and Picard had managed to avoid Beverly Crusher since the night she had rushed out of his quarters. She hadn't sought him out, out of either anger or embarrassment, he supposed, and so he kept his distance.

Jack stared straight ahead at the lift doors. He suddenly turned to Picard, and Picard thought he saw some of the old warmth in Jack's eyes. Jack smiled. "Once he's aboard I want you both to come to dinner with Bev and I…just like old times," he added.

Picard smiled back and nodded, although his gut told him he should refuse. *What is more important, your misplaced feelings for a married woman or your friendships?* he asked himself. He truly didn't know the answer but told himself to do the right thing. With him it was always about doing the right thing. "Let me know when and I'll be there," he said.

The lift doors opened and Jack stepped out. "Great! I will see you later then, Jean-Luc."

* * *

Picard stepped out after Jack and headed in the opposite direction. Increasingly he was becoming focused on his impending journey to Rura Penthe. Because his trip to the penal colony was possibly a one way trip, he did not want to leave his friends at a time when the foundation of those friendships seemed shaky, but he had no choice. He had also been forbidden by Starfleet Intelligence from announcing his planned departure from the Stargazer until Walker arrived in a few days. He would then continue to plan with walker for a few more days before departing. How he was to actually travel to Rura Penthe was still a mystery to him, and he would have to wait for Walker's arrival to find out.

"Captain, Klingon scout ship approaching", said Vigo from the tactical station. "Closing rapidly on our position," said Vigo more stridently.

"What are the Klingons doing here?" demanded First Officer Zev. It was odd to find the Klingons in this area of Federation space. The Klingon-Federation alliance was less than fifty years old and had always shifted in strength depending on the political climate and leadership of the time. Picard did not particularly care for politics, but nevertheless an undercurrent of mistrust often still accompanied ship to ship contact with the Klingons.

"Captain," warned Commander Zev, "the ship does not have Imperial markings, therefore I recommend caution—it could be a rogue ship."

"Open a channel," said Picard standing up and smoothing his uniform.

"Hailing frequencies open," responded Vigo.

"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Stargazer. Klingon vessel, identify yourself—" He was cut off as the view screen suddenly showed the interior of the Klingon ship. Walking into view was a familiar face, not one he had ever expected to see again. "Oh lord," he murmured under his breath.

"Greetings _Captain_ Picard," growled the Klingon on the screen, emphasizing his title. "In case you have forgotten, I am Darai, and my ship is the _Kragh_." She grinned lasciviously. "Picard it pleases me greatly that we both now command our own vessels. We could make powerful allies!"

Picard was almost at a loss for words but composed himself. He knew better than to display weakness in front of any Klingon. "What is your business here, Commander Darai?" demanded Picard.

She licked her lips. "I wish to meet with you to discuss…my business," she said. "You will beam me aboard your ship," she declared.

"Out of the question," snapped Zev. "Until you make your purpose known, you will not come near the Captain," she said protectively.

"I have no use for Andorians," said Darai dismissively. "Dead or alive," she added.

Zev's antennae swiveled back and forth furiously and her color turned a darker blue. Picard gave Vigo the sign to cut off the channel. Then he leaned in to Zev placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know this woman, Commander, and although I don't know exactly what she is up to, I do not believe we are in any danger. I'm going to bring her aboard for a brief meeting, and find out what she wants so that we can continue on our way." Zev nodded, knowing that her opinion had at least been respected even if she had been overruled. She stepped back, as Picard ordered Vigo to open the channel again.

Darai's expression had turned to one of boredom. "I thought you were a man of action, Picard. Are you going to bring me aboard or not?"

Picard smiled thinly. "Yes. Prepare to beam over."

Picard looked around the bridge. Jack was off duty. He glanced at T'Pel and Commander Zev. "Commanders, please accompany me to greet our guest," he said stepping into the turbolift.

Zev hit her communicator. "Dr. Stak, please send one of your people down to the transporter room in case our guest suddenly needs emergency care," she said patting the phaser on her hip. Picard shot her a warning glance. T'Pel's expression on the other hand, was serene, hands clasped behind her back. Somehow he thought her balanced approach might be crucial at this first meeting.

* * *

Once in the transporter room, T'Pel manned the control station. "Captain," she said, "the Kragh is initiating its transporter beam simultaneously." Within seconds two figures materialized on the platform. Picard, who was getting used to being surprised, was less so than everyone else to see the second figure appear. That Darai was accompanied by Walker Keel only seemed fitting at this point. He hadn't known how Keel would get here, but he had always been one for ingenuity.

Walker stepped down casually from the transporter pad, arms spread wide. "Jean-Luc, so good to see you. And you don't seem a bit surprised." He grinned and the two men hugged each other.

As they stepped apart, the room's occupants turned to see Beverly Crusher rushing into the room with a small medkit, somewhat out of breath. Apparently she had been sent by Stak at Zev's request. "Sorry I'm late," she said, and then upon seeing Walker, broke into the happiest expression. "Walker!" As they embraced, Darai stepped down from the platform, looking almost graceful despite her armor and heavy boots.

Slightly alarmed, Zev stepped in front of the Captain protectively. "Is this Andorian your guardian Captain Picard?" sneered Darai. Picard nodded at Zev, who reluctantly stepped away. Darai stepped close to Picard and leered down at him. He matched her gaze unflinchingly, and noted that her eyes were a curious golden hue. Infuriatingly he realized he was still physically attracted to her, and unfortunately she seemed to feel similarly. Darai bent down and before he could stop her, nibbled his ear in a surprisingly gentle way. He felt his face grow hot with embarrassment, feeling as though he was on display. She reached out to touch his face, and he grabbed her wrist thrusting it away from him roughly. Darai grinned and hissed at him, baring her sharp teeth, and then turned to regard the other crew members as though nothing had happened.

Darai clearly was not impressed with Zev, who continued to glare threateningly at her. She stepped toward T'Pel, with a suspicious air. She sniffed curiously in the air around T'Pel, but T'Pel simply tilted her head at the Klingon with calm distaste. Darai grunted and stepped toward Beverly Crusher, who after a glance at Walker had realized that this was indeed the Klingon woman Walker had told them about several years ago on a nearly forgotten camping trip in the hills of San Francisco. After her initial feeling of amusement, she now felt fear and discomfort, as though she were being sized up by this Klingon amazon. In fact she was correct. As with T'Pel, Darai began to sniff the air around Beverly, but then strangely she began to circle her ominously. Picard watched unsure whether intervening would make the situation more serious than it was. Beverly's eyes followed the Klingon woman, but she didn't move. She felt incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden, and reflexively she placed her hand over her belly in a defensive motion. Darai noticed this and sniffed again. She grinned dangerously and leaned down to Beverly. "Is this Picard's child you carry?" she hissed into Beverly's ear. Beverly stumbled back involuntarily, and Walker caught her. Beverly's face went white, and then her expression changed to one of anger as she stepped toward Darai threateningly.

Picard and Zev both grabbed Darai, and Walker continued to hold onto Beverly to prevent the situation from escalating. No one had heard Darai's threatening whisper, except for Zev, who had hearing superior even to a Vulcan. If Picard was having a child with Beverly it was certainly none of her business. She tightened her grip on the Klingon. "You will behave yourself aboard my ship," roared Picard, stepping between Darai and Beverly.

"I will do as you request, Picard," snarled Darai. "Just keep your females under control!"

* * *

Once Picard had shown Darai to her quarters, he met Walker in the lounge. "Walker, what the hell were you thinking teaming up with that woman? She's dangerous and unpredictable."

"Yes, but she's certainly fond of you, Jean-Luc. And wouldn't you rather have her on your good side? Besides," added Walker with a wink, "she's your ride."

Picard raised his eyebrows lowering his voice. "To Rura Penthe?"

Walker nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. "She's integral to the plan, Jean-Luc. Without her we wouldn't stand a chance of getting you into the prison much less getting you out. She knows what she's doing."

"No doubt," admitted Picard finishing his drink. "But what's in it for her? Certainly not just the quality time she would clearly like to spend with me."

"She wants to humiliate her brother Darok. That psychopath is the one who got Guinan and our operative into this mess, Jean-Luc, and Darai would like nothing better than to see him lose at his own game. She is only too happy to help us. The way she sees it, if he is humiliated, he'll continue to weaken, and her factions will become stronger than his. Sooner or later she will take over his assets, his business, etc."

"I see, so you're helping one criminal take down another, how wonderful," said Picard sarcastically. "Is this a typical day at work for you Walker?"

"Pretty much…" Walker began to chuckle.

"What has she got against her brother anyway? They would seem to be like two peas in a pod," said Picard.

Walker shrugged. "Just a typical sibling rivalry I guess…" he said with mock seriousness. "Kind of reminds me of you and your brother, actually" he added, and they both began to laugh. After a few moments, Walker suddenly stopped and looked carefully at Picard. "Jean-Luc, there's still time to change your mind," he said, the tension returning to his face. "If anything happens to you out there…." He trailed off and his eyes clouded over.

"Walker, I'm going to do this—I have to do this for Guinan. She doesn't deserve to be in this situation, and if I had helped her a year ago, perhaps she wouldn't even be in Rura Penthe."

Walker studied his friend. "Jack would never forgive me for sending you to your death, not to mention me never forgiving myself."

"Walker, I'm going to do this," said Picard as though it were simply a matter of fact.

"And so you are," Walker said with resignation.


	30. Chapter 30

Later that evening when Walker and Picard strolled to Jack and Beverly's quarters, making small talk, it was evident that Picard was holding something back. He halted just before they reached their destination. "Walker I should warn you that I haven't been on the best of terms with Jack and Beverly lately."

Walker frowned. "What do you mean? What happened?" At first Walker wondered if Jack had told Jean-Luc about his one night stand, but he quickly dismissed that notion because it appeared that Jean-Luc was feeling guilty about something. Had Jean-Luc acted on his feelings for Beverly? If that was the case, he could think of few things more disastrous.

"I think Jack knows," said Picard.

Walker played dumb. "Knows what?"

Picard sighed in frustration. "Look, I think he suspects that I am attracted to Beverly." Walker nearly laughed at the absurdity of the statement. It sounded almost as though Picard almost believed it was only an attraction and that he was not actually deeply in love with Beverly Crusher. But Walker knew that this must have been hell for Picard, and he could hardly blame him for a little self-denial.

Walker cleared his throat. "Did something happen between you and Beverly?"

Picard shook his head. "I am not going to discuss this with you, Walker. Especially right here and now," he said in a low voice.

Walker nodded, supposing that he had the answer to his question anyway. Had Beverly returned or rejected Picard's advances, he wondered? Or had she been the one to make the first move? Would she have even married Jack if she had known about his affair? Walker knew that Beverly was attracted to Picard, although she had tried to conceal it for obvious reasons. Perhaps things would have been different, had all three of them been more honest when it really mattered. In that moment Walker began to question again the prominent role he had played in forming this painful love triangle, and he was not so satisfied with himself anymore.

* * *

The first thing Walker and Jean-Luc noticed after Jack had beckoned them into his cabin, was that he immediately went to Beverly and they appeared to resume whatever quiet argument they had been having near the dining room. To call it a dining room was generous, since the Stargazer's living quarters were cramped and austere. Yet Beverly had added touches to the interior that had actually made it seem more cheerful. , the mood at the moment was slightly tense.

For almost the entire meal Walker had done the most talking. In fact, he had nearly carried on the conversation by himself and with himself, while the other three people at the table ate in awkward silence, stealing uncomfortable glances at one another. About halfway through dinner, and at the point when Walker was beginning to consider suicide, Jack finally had something to say. "So Walker, tell us what brings you out here, and on some lady Klingon's cruiser no less? I know you're not just here for the space food."

"Well aside from the opportunity of seeing the three of you, I should say I am here on unofficial Starfleet business."

"What's so unofficial about it?" asked Beverly.

"It means he can't talk about it, Honey," said Jack. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee.

Picard cleared his throat and put down his napkin. He felt Beverly's eyes fixed on him, as they had been many times that evening. "Actually, I wanted to tell the two of you before announcing to the rest of the crew that I will be leaving the _Stargazer_—temporarily of course. And that is the reason for Walker's visit here."

Jack put down his fork. He looked shocked. "For how long? Is this some kind of leave of absence?"

Picard shook his head. "No, it's not really a leave of absence. Unfortunately I am not at liberty to tell you the reason I am leaving."

"Where are you going?" asked Beverly abruptly, pushing her dessert around her plate with her fork. She suddenly felt unable to look at him and she felt a growing pressure in her chest.

"I'm afraid I can't say… but…my plan is to return as soon as possible."

"I don't like the sound of this," said Jack. "Walker are you going with Jean-Luc?"

Walker smiled thinly. "Only part of the way."

"You said you _plan_ on returning as soon as possible. You don't sound so sure," said Beverly. "Is this some kind of career change?"

Walker sighed and looked at Picard as if to say, I told you so. "Look, I know it's mysterious, but neither one of us is authorized to tell you more than we just have. And playing 20 questions isn't going to work."

There was a stony silence for a few more minutes, while what little information they had provided sunk in.

"Beverly and I also have an announcement to make," said Jack. He had originally wanted to tell Jean-Luc as a way of making a point, which he now recognized had been vindictive. But now he just wanted to lighten the mood in any way possible, and he hoped that expressing his happiness to his friends would do that. Jean-Luc was leaving and he and Beverly were still together. He needed to move past his petty jealousies for the good of his marriage. He took a deep breath and put his arm over her shoulders. "We're going to have a baby," he said feeling exhilarated when he hear himself say it out loud. She had only told him that morning, and he was so happy. But before the dinner, she had forbidden him from announcing it. Why would she want to keep such a wonderful thing a secret? So he had gone ahead and done it anyway.

Again, uncomfortable silence followed, because Jean-Luc and Walker could see by the expression on her face that Beverly was not happy that Jack had just made the announcement. She slipped out from under his arm and without saying another word, walked out of the room, slamming her plate down on the counter as she exited.

Jean-Luc had felt his insides flip over as Jack spoke the word "baby". He himself wasn't particularly fond of children, but still he didn't wish to dig too deep to decipher what his own reaction meant. Instead of dwelling on himself he felt compassion for Jack and Beverly. He glanced at Walker, who was usually quickest to recover, but the man's mouth was literally agape. Picard stood up and walked over to Jack who was still sitting down, and gripping him by the shoulder, offered his hand. "Congratulations, Jack, I am so happy for you and Beverly." Jack looked up at Picard, and there were tears in his eyes. He shook Picard's hand, and then unexpectedly, stood up and grabbed him in a hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Picard hugged him back, with the sudden realization that this might be the last time he would have the opportunity to hug Jack. He closed his eyes. The thought that he might die on Rura Penthe had not sunk in until this moment. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Beverly had re-entered the room, and was looking on with a very complicated expression. It was clear that she had been crying, but now seeing them, she smiled. He smiled back at her and for a few moments everything was as it had been.

* * *

**2367 Enterprise**

Beverly Crusher stood in sickbay, disbelieving what she was seeing. Guinan lay in the same spot she had been, still completely comatose, and yet now a purple cloud surrounded the patient like a cocoon. Crusher had called the Captain with enough urgency in her voice that he had brought Data and Worf along with him. They confirmed that the cloud was quite similar to the cloud surrounding the Enterprise. Like the cloud outside of the ship, this could be penetrated but would not be dispersed. If disturbed, it simply re-formed. "What the hell is it?" asked Crusher, angry that she continued to be faced with unanswered questions.

"I don't know," said Picard. "But I just remembered where I have seen that same cloud before."

* * *

**2348 Stargazer**

Beverly Crusher stood in sickbay, waiting for Walker Keel to arrive. He had asked for her assistance, and now she expected something in return. She wanted to know where Picard was going, in fact, as the time for his departure grew near, she felt almost desperate to know the truth. Walker was on time, strolling in to sick bay around noon. Dr. Stak was on lunch, so she beckoned her friend into the office.

"Here, I made you what you asked for," said, holding up a single vial of pinkish liquid. Walker reached for the vial, but she snatched it back, closing it in her fist. "I want to know where he's going and why you need this."

Walker sighed. He should have known this would come at a price. "Off the record?"

"Yes, off the record, unofficially, however you want to put it" she said. "I won't tell anyone, not even Jack."

"He's going on a mission, most of which is classified, some of it he can't even be told."

Beverly sat on the edge of the desk. "I see. So did he…volunteer for this mission or was he conscripted?"

Walker was not expecting an interrogation when he walked in, which in retrospect was foolish of him. Beverly might just get her 20 questions in after all. "A little of both," he responded. "His friend is in trouble and it turns out a valuable Starfleet operative is also in trouble in the same place. He insisted on going to find his friend and I simply made a way for him to do it with Starfleet approval."

Beverly's mind began to race. "Walker, where is he going that he needs a vial of a highly potent stimulant mixed with oxygen?" she demanded.

"Beverly…."

"Don't 'Beverly' me, Walker. What hell are you sending your friend into? He's not volunteering to go; you or someone above you in Starfleet is manipulating him into retrieving some spy by telling him his friend is at risk. Isn't that right?"

"Not exactly," Walker said, shifting from foot to foot. Beverly's voice was becoming strident, and he could tell some of the nursing staff could hear her nearly yelling inside Stak's office. "Look, Beverly, Jean-Luc is a grown man who is well known for doing what he's determined to do, if he believes it is the right thing. He's very stubborn. I gave him the chance to back out and he wouldn't take it."

Beverly folded her arms over her chest and attempted to control her anger. "He's going someplace cold, isn't he? That's why you needed this mixture." Walker just looked at her resignedly without answering yes or no, as she continued to think it through. "And he's getting a ride on a Klingon scout ship. No reason to travel on a Klingon ship unless you are going into Klingon territory…." She looked up at him suddenly. "It can't be…" she said quietly. "Tell me it's not where I think it is," she said in a stronger voice.

"I'm afraid I can't say anything more, Beverly," said Walker, his friendly gaze replaced by a grim expression.

"You son of a bitch," she said, still speaking in a quiet tone of disbelief. He caught clearly the look of betrayal in her eyes. Head down she began to walk past him out of the office.

He reached toward her. "Beverly wait, let me explain." She shoved his hand away.

She suddenly turned on him. "You just told me you couldn't explain, Walker. Now you want to tell me everything? You know what? I think I've heard everything I need to. Here," she said, slapping the vial into his hand. "Take it, he's certainly going to need it. And I hope your career gets the boost you're looking for."

He shook his head. "Beverly, wait!" She suddenly turned back toward him and grabbed his collar with both hands, and held on tightly, shaking him. He grasped her hands, then took hold of her shoulders when she began to sob uncontrollably. He gently wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. "Beverly I'm so sorry." He paused and then asked the question. "Do you love him?"

As she was shaking her head "no", into his chest, he could feel her tears seeping through his uniform. She continued to shake her head, but said "I don't know, I don't know," and finally she was hugging him back.


	31. Chapter 31

Walker was the last to board the scout ship _Kragh_ and Darai was proudly showing Picard her juiced up weapon's systems on the ship's bridge when he entered. The farewell aboard the _Stargazer_ had been mercifully brief. Jack had met them in the transporter room, but Beverly had been conspicuously absent. Walker doubted that he and Picard would ever discuss that fact, but they both had been relieved for different reasons. Picard had seemed confident that Zev and Jack would be able to take care of the ship and crew while he was gone. His friend had said little of his concerns about Rura Penthe, but Walker knew he must be worried. He was going into the unknown, and who knew if Guinan was even still alive?

Darai brought Picard to a small room with a sealed hatch. "This is your room," she said, kicking the door open with a shudder. Everything about a Klingon ship was metallic and dingy. Unlike the rest of the ship, which was sweltering, Darai had, at Walker's request lowered the temperature in the room considerably. Picard broke out in goose bumps as soon as he stepped within.

"You c-can't be serious," he said instantly shivering. "It's a goddamn icebox in here," he protested.

"You can thank your Walker friend", she growled. "He thinks it will help to prepare you for the prison planet."

Picard squinted in the dim light at the cramped shelf he supposed would pass as a bed. He shivered again. "Do you think it will?" He looked at her hopefully.

She howled with laughter. "Picard you amuse me! Nothing can prepare you for Rura Penthe."

* * *

Later that evening, Walker and Darai briefed him on the plan. Once near the prison planet, the _Kragh _would be cloaked. Picard would be beamed to the surface along with debris from a ship, and an explosion would be fabricated to make it look as though Picard's ship crashed on the surface of the planet. He would be dropped off several kilometers from the prison complex and once he made it close enough to the shield which covered the facility, alarms would be triggered and he would be captured. He would use a fake name and would say he was just a smuggler. Once inside, everything would become more complicated, he learned. According to Darai, she had many friends inside the prison who had been paid handsomely to cooperate with this plan.

For the moment Picard was more concerned about surviving what was currently winter on a planet that was perpetually covered in ice and snow, long enough to be captured. If he were injured or took too long to reach the shield perimeter he would die, plain and simple. The thought of wanting to be put in prison seemed insane of course, but this was his situation. Once inside the prison he faced finding Guinan, tracking down the Starfleet operative, and getting them both out of prison alive. His greatest challenge would be getting everyone out alive. Walker had given him something to work with, but the final plan would have to come from Picard.

"We will stay cloaked for as long as possible so that we can remain in orbit. When the time is right, I have people on the inside who will signal us that you have the operative and that it is time to retrieve you," said Darai confidently. "Make contact with the man with one eye. He will notify us when you are ready for pickup."

"And just how do you plan to pull that off?" demanded Picard.

Darai showed her teeth. "Leave that to me, Picard."

"Once inside, how will I identify the prisoner? How will he even know I am looking for him?"

"He will be expecting some kind of attempt at a rescue," said Walker. "He is much too valuable to leave to rot in prison." Something about the way Walker said it made his stomach turn. It occurred to him and not for the first time that Walker may not have even told him about Guinan if his precious operative hadn't gone missing. He wondered at moments like this if Walker was changing from warm to cold-blooded.

"He can be identified by a tattoo on his left forearm that looks like this," said Walker, holding up a hologram of a three interlocking circles.

Picard laughed. "Is that it? Is this how you prepare me to go into the most notorious prison in Klingon territory?"

Walker pulled a small device out of his pocket. "Hold out your left arm, this will only sting for a minute," said Walker. Picard gave him a warning look and then stretched out his arm, which Walker immediately stuck with the device.

"Ah! What the hell?" Picard grabbed his arm rubbing it until the burning sensation stopped. Suddenly it became cool again. He squinted in the dim light. Three interlocking circles had been instantly tattooed on his arm. He looked at Walker's grinning face and clenched his fist, considering what he would look like with fewer teeth.

"There," said Walker, "now you have one too, and he will know you are a friend not a foe."

Picard smiled at that but Walker noted little warmth in his friend's eyes. "If only it were so easy to identify who your friends are," said Picard, standing up from the table. The tension was suddenly electric in the room, and he heard Darai emit a low growl. Picard and Walker stared at each other.

"Well, Jean-Luc, are you going to just stand there or are you going to tell me what the hell your problem is?" Walker continued to sit and his posture was still relaxed as he and Picard continued to glare at one another. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Not about finding Guinan," Picard replied evenly. "Never mind," he said, turning toward the door. "I'm going to try and get some sleep."

"Jean-Luc, are you accusing me of not being your friend? I told you before that I had no idea Guinan was at risk until two months ago when I was briefed on the missing operative."

Picard glowered at him. "I don't like being used, Walker," he warned.

Walker's eyes glinted in the dim light. "Oh I see, so it's about you not being in control again. You don't mind risking your life but it has to be on your terms. You could _die_, Jean-Luc, and instead you're worried that you won't be able to do things your way!"

"That's right," said Picard walking out the door. "You're always right, Walker. Goodnight."

Walker looked at Darai. She looked thoroughly disgusted. "Was that a human disagreement? How disappointing…if you were Klingons, one of you would be dead. Preferably you," she added with a smile. Walker made a face but remained silent.

* * *

Picard shifted on his hard bunk. The tiny room he was in was freezing and smelled like unwashed feet. Klingons did not believe in bringing blankets aboard their ships, so he huddled in a ball and shut his eyes tight. He hadn't brought any belongings with him, because Walker had assured him that he would be properly outfitted when they reached the planet. He reminded himself that this was nothing compared to what he had to look forward to on Rura Penthe. As he tried to make himself sleep, he thought of Beverly and felt his body begin to relax. He wondered if she was happy about the baby. For a moment the awful smell dissipated and he thought he could smell Beverly's hair and skin, like lavender and spices. The memory of her kissing and touching him was almost too much to bear, and he could not forget the intensity of her eyes when she looked at him.

Suddenly the hatch slammed open and Darai stood crouched in the doorway staring at him. He turned toward her. "Go away, I'm not interested," he mumbled, annoyed that Darai had replaced his pleasant images of Beverly. He knew why she had appeared at his door, but it was true he wasn't interested. He shut his eyes again.

"It doesn't look that way to me," she sneered eyeballing him.

His eyes snapped open, and instinctively he covered himself and rolled back to face the wall. "Don't flatter yourself, it has nothing to do with you," he said.

Darai sat down cross-legged on the floor. "Ha! I believe you," she growled. "Perhaps you were thinking about the Vulcan woman. No…too boring even for you."

Picard sighed and opened his eyes. "Do you actually care, or are you just trying to keep me from sleeping?"

"I care that you seem different now, Picard. You are not the same as when I met you."

"I grew up," he mumbled.

"No, you are missing your fire," she hissed. "For me it is very sad to see, but for you it could be dangerous. If you do not re-capture your fire you will be killed on Rura Penthe."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said, squinting at her in the dim light. She suddenly sprung at him, and had him by the throat. He gripped her immoveable wrist, and was already starting to black out, when he smashed his fist into her ear and she cried out in pain, releasing him.

Darai sat back down on the floor still staring at Picard who was now sitting up. He coughed and rubbed his throat angrily. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You have no idea what you are headed for, Picard," she said getting to her feet. "If someone wants to strangle you in prison they will try harder than I did. You will not have your fancy Starfleet regulations and Prime Directive to protect you in that prison. No one will know about your rank, and if they find out, they will only kill you sooner. Walker Keel is a fool to depend on you to retrieve his precious spy- in the condition you are in."

"What do you mean, the 'condition' I'm in?"

She grunted. "You are lovesick," she said, backing out of the door. "And if you do not snap out of it, it will be fatal condition."

After she had left, Picard stared at the new tattoo on his arm, until he finally drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

The Klingon ship the _Kragh _came out of warp just before entering orbit around Rura Penthe. Unlike Federation ships, Klingon ships had little in the way of comfort engineered into them, and that included a transition from warp speed to impulse power that was jittery, not smooth. Picard awoke as the ship shuddered, as its speed decreased suddenly, and his head slid into a metal support jutting from the wall. He got out of bed and swore. There was a clang at the door, and Walker's head peeked through the entrance. "Jean-Luc," he said unceremoniously, "it's time to get this show on the road." He frowned, regarding his friend's appearance. "I have to say you're starting to look the part, but I'm not sure I want to know how you got that," he said nodding at the fingerprint marks on Picard's throat. Picard had no response, and uncomfortable silence followed.

The lights suddenly dimmed and the hum of the ship's systems became muted. "What was that?" Asked Picard, warily.

"Were cloaked and invisible," said Walker. He attempted a smile. "Come on," Walker said, "let's get you ready."

Getting "ready" had consisted of changing out of his uniform, dressing in what would be his only clothes at least until he reached the prison, and putting on heavy boots, a scarf and a parka with a hood. He would carry a small case of dehydrated rations, water, a thermal heat stick and a knife. Walker had explained that if he made it to the prison, all of these items would be taken from him, so it made sense to travel light. He was again briefed on the plan. Before he stepped on the transporter pad, Walker handed him a small vial. "Save this until you're really desperate, Jean-Luc. Inject it directly into your neck and it will get you the rest of the way." Picard looked at the oblong item and then nodded, dropping it into an inner pocket.

"I'll see you on the other side, Jean-Luc," said Walker confidently.

Picard nodded, staring straight ahead. "Energize," he said through gritted teeth, and felt the familiar warm tingle of the transporter beam as the room disappeared.


	32. Chapter 32

**2348 Rura Penthe Ice Planet**

Picard materialized in a low lying crater-like area. The first thing he noticed was the sensation of extreme cold, and a strong wind nearly knocked him over. Next he saw that surrounding him was wreckage from a small craft that Darai had damaged and then transported it to the surface of the planet. A charge had been detonated just prior to Picard beaming down, leaving the ground surrounding the wreckage blackened. It wasn't perfect, but if anyone who might have cared discovered the wreckage, they would at least initially believe a craft had crashed there. He could only hope that no thorough investigation would be done. Picard poked his head out of the crater and was greeted by a blast of frigid air. The sun was shining at the moment, but he feared it would not be present for long. Walker had given him tinted goggles, and he immediately appreciated the lessened glare from the frozen ground. He touched a computerized compass attached to his wrist and once he'd gotten his bearings, began to walk quickly in the general direction of where he'd been told the prison was.

A vast plain of glittering ice and snow spanned before him. Rarely, even in space had he felt so small and insignificant. At first he stomped clumsily through the drifts, but gradually he developed a rhythm and was able to keep moving fairly easily. At mid-day the bluish sun made an appearance and warmed up the surface enough to make it slippery, but also kept it warm enough that he was able to keep moving. Despite his progress, something hadn't quite been right about the location he had been dropped in. It seemed too far away. He had been walking for hours with no sign of the prison complex. It soon became clear that he would not make the shield perimeter by nightfall, and his worry increased.

Things continued to go fairly well until the sun began to set and the temperature dropped so rapidly that Picard was suddenly desperate to find shelter. His fingers and toes were numb and a layer of ice covered his face. He headed for a shadowy cluster of small hills about one kilometer away. By the time he had reached the edge of the hillside the sun had disappeared behind the mountains in the west. A frigid blanket seemed to cast itself over everything as Picard trudged closer and closer to the hills.

He pulled a small light out of his pocket and held it aloft. It gave him very little light, but he could see a rocky overhang thirty meters away from him and uphill. He staggered forward on icy feet hoping he would be able to take shelter for the night. The climb was slippery and he stumbled and fell forward more than once before reaching what he could now see was an entrance to a small cave. The wind was starting to pick up, and knowing he would not survive the night outside, he went inside the cave despite his uneasiness.

Once inside, he placed the light down and tried to view his surroundings, but could see very little. The floor of the cave was covered in snow, but being away from the wind was a blessing. His hands shook as he pulled the thermal stick out of his pocket, twisted it and then put it back inside his coat. Slowly he felt his torso begin to warm up, but his extremities were another story. He knew that his fingers were frostbitten, and he also knew there was very little he could do about it. He drank some water and ate some pieces of dried food that looked very similar to his thermal stick and tasted like dehydrated chicken but he was too hungry to care. Leaning his head back against the rock wall, he put his hands underneath his armpits and even the painful sensation of his fingers thawing out could not keep him from sleep.

* * *

_He was climbing and someone was pulling at his left boot. If they would only stop pulling he could finally reach the top of the hill. He struck out with his right leg…_

Picard awoke greeted by a low growl, and the sudden realization that his left boot was being pulled from his foot by powerful jaws. Alarmed he shouted and scrambled backward. Somehow his boot was still halfway on his foot, but as his attacker advanced, he saw, now fully awake, that this was the least of his problems. The creature resembled a large white wolf, but was stockier and slower moving. He tried to get to his feet but, because of the height of the cave, he could only kneel, brandishing the ridiculously small knife Walker had given him. The creature lowered itself and moved in slowly, teeth bared in an enormous mouth. He glanced around the cave to see if there were any makeshift weapons to be found, and found a bone that looked disturbingly like a human femur. He grabbed it in his other hand, momentarily happy that he now had two weapons. The wolf-creature slowly tracked every move he made with its yellow eyes. He tried to feint to the right to fool the animal, but it was clearly not falling for it and stared through him with hungry and intelligent eyes. Suddenly it leapt and he struck out blindly with the bone, stunning the animal briefly.

As it recovered, he crawled desperately to the mouth of the cave, and then turned as he felt a set of sharp claws sink into his side just above his left hip. It seemed the creature was just as desperate to keep him in the cave as he was to escape. As he swung the bone wildly to free his leg, the crude weapon missed and he heard it shatter as it bounced off the floor of the cave. Picard cried out and tried to drag himself out, trying to dig his fingers into the rocky hillside. The creature tugged at his side and then he felt it sink its teeth into his left thigh. With a scream he thrust his knife into the creature's face, and it yowled as the blade pierced its eye. Reluctantly it released him, and then he was rolling and bouncing joltingly down the hill. When he reached the bottom, he scrambled to his feet, stifling a cry, and began running. He didn't look back and continued to run as fast as he could until he felt he had put a good distance between him and the creature's lair.

Stopping for cover behind a large boulder his chest heaved and his lungs were in agony from the shock of the cold. He snuck a look back in the direction from which he had come and to his terror, spotted the creature walking slowly in his direction. Bizarrely its gait was slow and casual, and it didn't even sniff the air in search of him. Suddenly, his terror was replaced by confusion as the creature disappeared with a flash of light, and was replaced by a tiny hovering golden light. Just as quickly, the tiny light winked out of visibility.

He blinked and leaned back against the rock convinced that he was hallucinating. In the northeast, the direction he was headed, a blue sun began to rise on the horizon. He felt dizzy and biting his lip he peeled back his shirt underneath the parka to see four deep lacerations above his left hip. The pain was excruciating. Gritting his teeth he examined his thigh where deep puncture wounds marked where the animal had bitten him. Below the leg wound his pant leg was wet and had turned dark with blood. Steam rose from his leg and froze in the air. He began to shiver and realized that the bite had probably nicked an artery. He poured water and antiseptic on the wounds and then quickly tied his scarf around his thigh as a tourniquet. Leaning against the boulder the world went grey and he blacked out. When he came to a few seconds later, he was still standing.

Cursing, he pulled the mysterious vial Walker had given him from his pocket and shoved the end of it into his neck hearing a hiss as the contents of the vial entered his bloodstream. His skin immediately flushed and he felt a surge of energy throughout his body. His lungs felt clearer and his brain suddenly remembered what to do. He began to move forward through the snow, following the compass, which had been scratched but was still operational. He only thought of one thing, and that was warmth. Whatever substance Walker had given him kept him going for another few hours. After the first hour he had removed the tourniquet because he needed to be able to use his leg and the lower half was growing numb from lack of blood flow. He turned the scarf into a makeshift bandage, and kept moving. The problem then was that his leg began to bleed freely again. He had looked behind him once and seeing a trail of red tracking behind him as far as he could see, decided to keep his eyes forward at all times.


	33. Chapter 33

Beverly Crusher sat in the dark in Jack's Quarters. They had been married for five months, and now she was pregnant with his child. Things should have been spectacular, but in truth nothing seemed right. Jean-Luc had left three days ago, and for all she knew he was never coming back. He was an important person to everyone who she was close to, and yet he was almost too important to her. She didn't know why, but she knew she couldn't tell Jack. She loved Jack, but she was infatuated with Picard, and this infatuation, which she knew could never be consummated as long as she and Jack were together, had to end. She had made a choice to be with Jack, and he loved her. She was tired of feeling guilty because she had feelings for someone else, when Jack had always been loyal to her.

All she knew was that she needed to reclaim her life for herself and for her baby. She couldn't be selfish anymore, existing in some sort of secret fantasy world. She also couldn't sit and pine for someone who might never come back. Picard had made so many choices that she assumed had not involved one thought of her. Or did his decision to leave his own ship in fact have something to do with her? Had he tried to make the decision for both of them by leaving? She couldn't even figure out if she was angry with him or not. She squeezed her temples, wishing she could empty her head of these thoughts. At that moment her door beeped. "Come in," she said as calmly as possible. She stood up as T'Pel entered, carrying several items.

"I hope that I am not arriving at an inconvenient time," said T'Pel. "I am currently on break, and when I visited sickbay, I learned you had left your shift early."

Crusher rubbed her hands together nervously. "No, I'm glad you came, actually. I think I've been spending too much time alone lately. Driving myself crazy…" she trailed off uncomfortably at T'Pel's blank expression. "Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I'm having tea," Beverly offered.

"Yes," said T'Pel. "I will have tea as well." Beverly nodded, and then watched T'Pel out of the corner of her eye as she watched the Vulcan woman sit down and lay out several cloths, and a bottle of something mustard colored on the table before her.

Beverly carefully handed T'Pel her tea and sat down next to her. "So what is all of this?" she asked cautiously, gesturing at the items on the table.

T'Pel regarded her with a curious expression. "This is the T'atlem root I said that I would make for you. I apologize for the delay, but once I determined I could not synthesize an appropriate substitute in my lab, I had to contact Vulcan to obtain the root."  
"Oh," said Beverly, genuinely touched. "You really didn't have to go to all that trouble, T'Pel."

"Trouble?" T'Pel looked slightly confused as she sipped her tea. "It was surely no trouble. How is your condition?"

"I feel a bit better, or at least I'm getting used to it," Beverly said, sitting back in her chair. She eyed the bottle. "How—how do I use it?"

T'Pel turned to her. "It is very simple," she said, pouring a small globule of the mustard colored liquid onto the tip of her finger. "However it is very important not to dilute it with water. The results are quite…undesirable." She reached up and placed the globule on Beverly's forehead. She gently pressed a cloth against Beverly's forehead.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Beverly closed her eyes. Almost immediately she felt her tension dissipate and a calming feeling entered her abdomen. She felt balanced. She opened her eyes to find that T'Pel had removed the cloth and was sitting quietly with her hands in her lap. To her surprise and embarrassment Beverly found that a tear had trickled down her cheek.

"Thank you," she said her voice nearly a whisper. She smiled at T'Pel as the science officer stood up.

"You are welcome," said T'Pel, turning to leave. She turned back to regard Beverly carefully. "And thank you for the tea."

"Anytime," said Beverly, feeling hopeful that perhaps she had made a new friend.

* * *

Her lips were so cold against his face, but he didn't want them to ever leave him. Her body was warm and lay on top of him, the way he had always wished for. Her long red hair spread over his neck and chest. Suddenly she was gone, floating away from him. Her beautiful form had disappeared and now in her place, a tiny golden light floated just out of reach. He could still hear her whispering his name, but his body was numb. Maybe he should follow her; follow the beautiful golden light. Where had he seen it before? So familiar…. Yes, his spirit could follow, even if he could no longer move his body. He felt himself letting go and it was such a wonderful freeing sensation. Now his body could sleep.

And then suddenly shock, pain and anger flooded back into him. He twisted his head from side to side and opened his eyes to find that he was encapsulated inside of a purplish orb. It hummed and warmed his skin surrounding his body like a sleeve. At first he fought against it because he really had wanted to die, but then another voice began to speak to him, telling him to wake up. "Picard you must not go to sleep, you must wake up," said the voice. It was Guinan's voice. His body began to actually feel energized, and he knew that he wanted to live. He had to finish what he had started. The purple cocoon dissipated and once again he was alone on the ice planet. He looked down at his wounds and saw that they were still hideous and gaping, but the blood had finally coagulated and he was no longer losing blood. The pain had lessened.

He struggled up to his feet and started to stagger forward. He felt his wrist and found that his compass had fallen off at some point. He looked around him and found no trace of it. The harsh wind had dusted snow over his tracks as far back as he could see. Taking a deep breath, he began to trudge forward, simply hoping at this point, that he was heading in the right direction.

* * *

"What's that?" growled the Klingon, lowering his binoculars. He was on foot, and there was no question that he was the Klingon in charge. "Looks humanoid."

The second Klingon was on a standing hover-vehicle, and bared his teeth as he stared squinting into the distance. "It looks small and wounded and it is headed this way. Looks like dinner to me," he said, charging up the nasty looking disruptor attached to his hip. He took aim, and was about to squeeze the trigger, when he felt a fist slam into the side of his head.

"You'll not be shooting a thing without permission from the boss! Now get out there and drag that thing back in here before he puts the shield back up for the night." He watched as his colleague shot across the frozen plain without another word. Within seconds the Klingon had retrieved the creature, knocked it out and was dragging it behind him slowly on his hover pad.


	34. Chapter 34

**2348 Rura Penthe**

The boss was not happy. In fact, the boss, or Ramstag, as he was commonly called, was never happy, but humans seemed to bring out the worst of moods in him. In a cramped and dusty holding cell reserved for new visitors to Rura Penthe, Ramstag circled the slumped over form with suspicion, but it was clear that he had little to fear, for this human was hardly a challenge. He suddenly grasped the human underneath the chin and lifted his head. "You smell like death, human," he declared. The human opened his puffy eyes, but said nothing. "What are you doing on Rura Penthe?" demanded Ramstag. "In thirty years I've never witnessed someone actually _choose_ to come to this place." The human closed his eyes again. Ramstag shook him by the shoulders, but the human's head simply lolled to one side. "Speak!"

The human's green eyes snapped open again and this time they seemed a bit clearer as though he was realizing where he was. "Ship crashed…" the human mumbled.

Ramstag motioned to Marg, the one who had given the order to retrieve this sad specimen. Marg stepped forward. "Yes, Boss?"

"Didn't the sensors detect an atmospheric anomaly yesterday morning very early?" asked Ramstag suspiciously.

"Yes," said Marg. "It could have been a disabled ship—could have been anything really."

Ramstag let go of the human's muddy face. "Go and check it out at first light," he ordered. Marg growled his displeasure but nodded.

Ramstag turned toward the door. "Move him to another room while we locate a permanent cell for him." He grunted looking at the human's face, and detected a slight smile forming underneath the grime and dried blood. "Look at him, I swear he looks almost happy to be here," mumbled Ramstag sounding slightly bewildered as he exited the cell.

* * *

The guards had brought him down a dark hallway and shoved him into a room, almost as dark, and quickly shut the door before he could protest. To his surprise, when he turned around he saw he was in a grimy medical bay. A stooped figure stood facing away from him at an examining table. Minutes later he sat shivering on the table eyeing the hunched figure, who had turned out to be a skilled doctor. Now his wounds had been cleaned and his head felt clearer.

"No one here has even asked me what my name is," commented Picard, as he sat on a crude examining table, eyeing the prison doctor suspiciously.

The doctor, who was the smallest Klingon he had ever seen, sidled up to him with a glistening needle. "That is because no one cares, human," the doctor said with a thin smile.

"Not even you?" Picard glanced at the diminutive Klingon and wondered how someone so frail looking could have ever survived in Klingon society.

"Not even me," the doctor said and without further explanation he plunged the needle into Picard's thigh. Picard flinched slightly, but the pain was minimal compared to what he had been through recently. Hypo sprays were expensive and certainly a needle was good enough for an anonymous prisoner. "Although if I were to guess, I would say you certainly are not who you say you are," said the doctor with another small smile.

"I haven't said anything yet," Picard said, and he was beginning to see that this Klingon must have survived on his cleverness. He felt his entire left side and leg growing numb. Whatever had been injected into him was quite strong.

"Once again, no one cares who you are or where you came from. You're just a number now, and if I were you I would get used to it. You can't afford to stand out here—any more than you already do," he added with a murmur. The doctor pulled out a needle and synthetic thread. At first, Picard didn't even realize the purpose of the equipment until the needle entered his skin. Apparently the medicine used in this prison was not exactly cutting edge. "I wonder…" said the doctor with a sly look, "if you are the kind of person who can avoid standing out. Yes, perhaps this will be your greatest challenge while here at Rura Penthe."

"I suppose I should take your sage advice; doctor…"

"Doctor Taryn," said the Klingon quietly, as he began to sew up Picard's wounds with a quick and steady hand. "You can take my advice…or leave it," said the Klingon easily, concentrating on his work. After a few more minutes he looked up at Picard. "There; it's not pretty, but you won't get an infection and according to your readouts you're not contagious and won't be spreading any disease down in the depths. My work is done," he said nodding for Picard to get down from the table.

Picard's leg tingled from the injection, but he felt much stronger. Now, if he could only have a bath. He glanced at the doctor one last time. "Thank you doctor," he said attempting unsuccessfully to gesture his gratitude with his bound hands.

Doctor Taryn's craggy face drew into a slow smile. "Guards!"

* * *

The door flew open. "What are you screamin' at?" demanded the first guard, grabbing Picard from the room and pulling him roughly out into the dark hallway. Already becoming used to the unkindness of this place, Picard stumbled forward, not bothering to say a word in protest. Of course it had been the doctor, not him, who had called for the guards.

The second guard, a very tall Klingon, poked his head back into the room and sniffed. Something seemed off, and yet the now empty holding cell appeared to be the same dank hole it always had been. Nevertheless he returned to his compatriot and the prisoner with a puzzled frown.

The guards were not gentle, but Picard's mild reaction was not what it might have been just a week ago. His experiences over the last few days had tested him and exposed him to a new level of fear he hadn't experienced previously. Yes, he had been through life and death situations before, but until the incident in the cave he had never come face to face with another being who had truly wanted to kill him. It made one think about one's place in the universe. Perhaps he had been too arrogant, too focused on his career. And out in the frigid wasteland of the planet, he had never been closer to dying. And yet he had been given a chance to survive over and again. All of this crossed his mind as he was marched deeper into the prison, spurred on by the guards. So far he had seen no cells, no prisoners, and certainly no sign of his friend.

After a few more minutes of walking, the guards shoved him into a room the size of a box. Was this his cell? But no, to his surprise they squeezed in beside him. The tall guard smiled down at him as though he was about to be let in on a secret, and flicked a switch on the wall. Suddenly he felt his intestines sink to the floor, as the tiny room dropped and continued to pick up speed at a frightening rate. If he had known it was a lift before stepping in, he could have at least tried to prepare himself, but as the lift screeched its way down faster and faster into the belly of the planet, he realized that nothing could have prepared him for this sickening drop. He was plastered to the wall by the time they reached their destination. The guards, unfazed, had obviously done this too many times before to care.

The door clattered open, and without a word they shoved him from the lift and down a dark corridor cloaked in a reddish hue from the emergency lights. Immediately the smell of unwashed bodies and despair washed over him and he unwillingly choked in the rank air. Whistles and hoots greeted him as he was paraded unceremoniously down through the hallway, cells lining both sides. When they reached his cell he briefly wondered for the first time whether he would have a cellmate, before he was again shoved into yet another crowded space. He shivered. A cold chill pervaded this prison, despite the fact it must have been closer to the planet's core than could be at all safe. Under the circumstances he thought having a cellmate might be worth it just for the extra body heat.

* * *

The cell door was shut tightly behind him when a pair of violet glowing eyes greeted him from the darkness. He flashed back to the cave and the creature that had nearly taken his life, and a wave of adrenaline ran through him. Picard crouched down with his hands in a defensive posture, preparing for the unexpected. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A slow throaty laugh reverberated through the tiny cell; a female laugh. "I have you at a disadvantage," said the voice confidently. "For you can't see me, but I can see you."

Picard flattened himself against the wall and strained to peer through the darkness. His movements felt clumsy. As far as he could tell, the being with the violet eyes had not moved. The eyes followed his movements and blinked slowly. "You needn't be worried, human, I am not hungry…at the moment," it chuckled.

Picard felt his way downward and connected with a bunk. Why was it so damned dark? Shifting his weight, he sat down carefully on the bed so that he was facing the glowing eyes. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your rest," he said, his voice sounding too polite for such crude surroundings.

There was a low hiss. "I sleep during the day. But the rest of the idiots in this prison sleep at night, and so when they get locked up to sleep, so do I. Oh what havoc I will wreak when I escape one night and everyone is fast asleep," the voice continued dreamily.

Picard really didn't know what to say to such a statement, so he remained quiet. His mysterious cellmate grew quiet as well. He felt his eyes grow heavy and he struggled to keep them open to fight his exhaustion. A creeping sense of fear caused his eyes to snap open again, but the glowing eyes had closed.

No longer feeling as threatened, Picard shut his eyes again and began to drift off to sleep again, only to be awakened by a bizarre sound emanating from the adjacent sleeping area. It was like a low rolling growl, but machine like in its persistence. Still the violet eyes remained closed, and he slowly convinced himself that his strange companion was asleep. Indeed, the persistent humming was not unlike a human snore. Despite his annoyance, he noticed his cellmate was giving off significant amounts of body heat, even from several feet away. This warmed him, and unable to resist anymore he went to sleep.


	35. Chapter 35

**2348 Rura Penthe Prison**

When he awoke the next morning, he sat up wearily and for the first time noticed how stiff and sore he was. His leg and lower torso burned, but as he inspected them carefully with his fingers he could see that they were not infected. Dr. Taryn had done quite an expert job stitching him up. The hallway outside the cell was now lighted and even the cell was dimly lit, leading him to conclude that this must be what passed for daytime in Rura Penthe. He sighed.

"Not used to artificial light are you? The ones like you are always the first to commit suicide," said a muffled voice. Picard looked up sharply. Somehow since last night he had forgotten that he was not alone in this cell. His eyes widened involuntarily at the sight of his roommate. Mostly humanoid and about half Picard's size, the alien was covered in a layer of thick fur, and was curled in a ball on the adjacent bunk. Its pointy ears twitched a few times. One violet eye, now muted in the light gazed at him, while the other was closed sleepily. Its tail flicked dismissively in his direction.

"Actually I don't mind the light," said Picard. And of course he had spent years aboard space vessels with artificial light. "It's the confinement I don't like," said Picard moving to the edge of his bunk to get a better look at this strange person. He tried to hide astonishment at its appearance. Last night he thought for sure the voice had been female, but now he had no idea what to think.

"So why are you here?" said the giant ball of black and white fur. "Or rather…what did you do to get in here?"

"I crashed my ship and they caught me at the perimeter."

"Oh, so you're an idiot," said the feline-like alien. "Which means you'll fit in perfectly around here."

Picard tried not to take offense. After all, his story _was_ a lie and after all that had happened, the premise seemed altogether silly. He shrugged. "I suppose I won't argue with you until I've met the rest of the prison population." He paused. "And what did you do to get here?" asked Picard.

"Theft, murder…murder, theft…take your pick," said his cellmate. "And of course to get in here, you have to piss off a Klingon at some point in your life."

Picard could identify with that at least. "What is your name?" asked Picard, wondering how long this conversation could go on and whether he actually wanted it to.

His cellmate stretched out lazily and eyed him. "Not that it should matter, but my name is Catia."

Picard sputtered laughing unintentionally. "Are you serious? Your name is Catia?"

Catia sat up suddenly with an intense stare. "Yes and what is so funny?"

"Um, well, you greatly resemble an Earth creature that we humans call a cat."

Catia made a motion toward him with its tail which Picard felt really had only one interpretation. "Never heard of it," said Catia boredly.

"Indeed," murmured Picard with raised eyebrows. "I'm Bill,"' he said, trying to sound casual.

Catia simply blinked at him slowly. "Right…" she said lazily (at that moment he had decided she was a she for no other reason than he really didn't want to ask).

Catia and Picard glanced up as they heard heavy feet walking down the hall outside.

"So what happens here during the day?" asked Picard attempting a casual tone in the hopes of learning something useful.

"What do you think happens? It's a prison—you sit in a cell."

"I see," said Picard, beginning to wonder how he was expected to find Guinan or some damn operative if he was trapped in this box. He also began to remember that he really wasn't that fond of cats.

Catia sat forward, and suddenly and out of nowhere pulled a deck of cards which she began to shuffle expertly. "The interesting stuff actually happens in the evenings. That's when the guards let us out."

"What kind of interesting stuff?" asked Picard, growing somewhat hopeful. He caught the cards one by one as she tossed them his way and strangely they began to play a variation of a game that was familiar enough to them both.

"Do you like to fight?" asked Catia, suddenly catching him intensely with her violet stare.

Picard frowned. "When I was foolish and young I used to…but I've learned along the way that fighting really never got me anywhere. Actually as I grow older, I find myself tending to be more diplomatic."

Catia made a snorting sound. "Well _here_ it can get you everywhere—out of Rura Penthe if you're good enough. All you need is a good handler. Leave the diplomacy to me."

"Wait a minute, back up," said Picard slapping down his cards. "What do you mean you can get out of here? By fighting?" Over the next few minutes, Catia explained how the arena fights worked. Essentially, you challenged another prisoner to hand to hand combat, or the guards chose an opponent for you. If you killed the other prisoner in combat you would have a chance to leave Rura Penthe if the guard spun a giant wheel and the wheel landed on the number one. By the time she was done explaining, his mind was racing. He picked up his cards again and they resumed play.

"One rule: if you want to actually win a fight and have a chance to get out of here, you'll have to steer clear of Volka. He's been here a year and he's never lost. But the wheel has never spun his way, and I'm beginning to doubt it ever will. You see, the guards and warden here at the prison like a good show, and Volka puts on a good show. That's why after over one hundred fights, he's still stuck on this rock with the rest of us."

"Because the wheel won't spin his way?" Picard asked.

Catia nodded. "The wheel is fixed. The key is to pay someone off to fix it in order to make it go your way. The few lucky bastards who have been set free must have worked it out that way. At least that's my theory."

"This Volka must be very deadly…you said in order to even get a spin at the wheel you need to kill your opponent," said Picard.

"That's right. At first he would just do enough to win. Almost as though he wasn't sure what he was fighting for. But somewhere along the way, Volka changed. He fought only to get a chance at the spin of the wheel, which means he fought only to kill. He has taken the lives of his last fifty opponents."

Picard's blood chilled at the thought of such carnage. "What if I don't believe that being offered a miniscule chance at freedom is worth murdering another being in cold blood?" Picard challenged.

Catia grinned, baring her sharp teeth. "This is no time for morals, Bill-if that's really your name. If you want out of Rura Penthe, you have to be willing to fight dirty. You have to be willing to take every chance in order to escape Rura Penthe. Are you willing to do that? Are you willing to kill?"


	36. Chapter 36

**2367 Enterprise**

"You said you've seen that purple sphere before Jean-Luc. Where did you see it? And what _is_ it?" Beverly Crusher sat at her desk holding a cup of coffee. Across from her sat a very troubled Captain Picard. They had been standing next to Guinan's bedside, studying the strange purplish cloud that surrounded her; a cloud so similar to the cloud the Enterprise was currently floating in. Picard had suddenly declared that he had seen the

He sighed. "Beverly, I've never spoken of this to anyone before, not even Guinan. But now seeing it here, surrounding her, I believe I know what it is." He paused. "I believe she is attempting to fight death. I believe she is healing herself, or at least trying to keep death at bay."

Beverly shook her head. "Jean-Luc, I don't understand." She tried to peer into his eyes, but his gaze was fixed somewhere above her left shoulder.

"Beverly, do you remember right after you learned you were pregnant with Wesley… how I left the Stargazer for about two months?"

She almost laughed at the absurdity of his question. "Do I remember? Jean-Luc, once I learned where you were headed, I doubted you would ever come back alive. So, yes…I do remember, and not too fondly."

"Well even before I reached the prison I was injured badly while in the wilderness—"

"You mean the wounds I tried to heal and you wouldn't tell me where they came from?" Her eyes shone with a resentment that was as fresh today as it had been the first day they had been reunited all those years ago.

He looked down at his hands. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I lost so much blood…and it covered the snow…" His eyes snapped shut, and she could tell that he was re-living a trauma that had been buried for nearly twenty years. He gripped his thigh as though he still felt the physical pain from a scar that had long since faded.

Beverly leaned forward resting her coffee on the desk carefully. "Jean-Luc, it's alright." She got up and came around the front of her desk, and knelt down beside him, taking his hand. She had always wondered about him out in the cold, facing the extreme loneliness and fear. But she had never known that he had come so close to death on that planet.

The details about what had actually happened once he had reached prison had really been what most people had been curious about—and those details she had learned only after practically threatening Walker. And yet, Walker had only told her so much. It amazed her that after knowing one another for so many years, she and Jean-Luc could still be such strangers to each other.

He took a deep breath. "Well, at the point when I felt I couldn't go on any longer, I lay down and felt a warmth come over me. When I opened my eyes you were there—or at least I thought you were there. You were dressed in the most brilliant white gown and you were floating just above me. You kissed my lips and told me to follow you. I was so happy that you had come to comfort me. I was done with suffering, so I tried to follow you" he finished, turning his face down to look at her, as she continued to grip his hand. Her eyes glistened with tears. She wasn't sure how to take the fact that in his greatest hour of need, she was the image that lured him to death, rather than to life; but she appreciated that he was actually opening up to her.

"Then," he continued, gripping her hand, "it was if I had been awakened from a beautiful dream—the pain came back and I was wrenched back to the reality of my situation. I heard Guinan's voice, and then I was enveloped in a lavender sphere that I am quite certain began to heal me. When the sphere left me the bleeding had stopped, and somehow I was able to go on."

"The sphere is part of her?" Beverly whispered questioningly. She stood briefly from her crouching position and sat down in the chair next to him.

Picard continued to stroke her hand lightly. "I don't know, but clearly it has some connection to her. I never asked her about it; I never had to. And now…I doubt it would be any use to talk to her right now." He sighed. "Yet another missed opportunity," he said softly. He smiled at her sadly. "Beverly, for all of my accomplishments, so many of my personal relationships have been left unfinished, unexplored, or simply left behind in favor of my career."

Beverly smiled and shook her head. "You're being too hard on yourself—"

"No, you were right, Beverly. All those years ago, you questioned whether my career was more important to me than friendship or family; and you were right. What if I had listened to what you were saying? My life—_our lives _might have been different." He studied her face.

"Jean-Luc, we both made choices back then that still affect us today." She shifted in the chair to face him. "When Guinan first fell ill you asked me if I believed in fate. Well, it's true I do; but I also believe in choice. And that means we still can choose a different—a better life." She gripped his hand tightly.

They stared at each other for a few long moments. With honesty had suddenly come the freedom of possibility.


	37. Chapter 37

**2348 Rura Penthe **

The small window of his cell door snapped up with a clang. Picard jerked his head up. He had been dozing. He noted Catia was doing the same, and she didn't even move at the sound. Two bloodshot eyes glared at him through the window. "Boss wants to see you," growled the visitor. He recognized the voice from his arrival yesterday as the Klingon called Marg. Picard glanced at Catia, and then back at Marg, to make sure Marg was actually talking to him, but the Klingon seemed to take no notice of Catia.

Picard stood up, as the door opened. Marg grasped Picard's bicep in one huge meaty hand and they began to walk down the seemingly never-ending hallway. The ride up in the elevator was not nearly as gut-wrenching as the ride down had been, but more notable now was the emptiness in his stomach. Just a walk outside his cell revealed how weak he had become in just a few days without proper nutrition. What he wouldn't have given for another freeze-dried chicken-flavored stick.

* * *

When he and Marg entered Ramstag's office, it was clear that this was the only space within the prison that was meant to at least imitate comfort, if not luxury. The smell of some kind of stew wafted through the room and Picard nearly fainted in anticipation of something to eat. A huge pile of bread sat in the middle of the table. Marg placed a hand on his shoulder and sat him down at a large wooden table. Picard sat quietly, unsure why he had been brought to see Ramstag, or "the Boss" as he was apparently called.

Suddenly Ramstag walked from the back room. In his large hand he held a bowl of the stew Picard had hoped was not a dream. Ramstag, all the while watching Picard, carefully set the steaming bowl down on the table about three feet away from his prisoner. Picard felt himself involuntarily fixate on the food and his mouth began to water.

"Hungry?" asked Ramstag with a knowing smile. He pushed the bowl slowly toward Picard but halted it just out of reach.

Picard leaned instinctively closer to the aroma.

"I see you have not died from your wounds…yet," observed the prison warden, inching the bowl back slightly.

"No," said Picard, "your doctor did an expert job fixing me up. I'm indebted to him."

Ramstag rolled his eyes up at Marg, who was standing stiffly at his side. "What is he talking about? Is he insane?" Ramstag asked his subordinate in Klingon. Marg shrugged noncommittally.

Ramstag turned his attention back to the prisoner. "You are a strange human. What is your business inside the Klingon Empire?"

"I'm a trader," said Picard, feeling lightheaded. "All sorts of things, but antiques mostly."

Ramstag suddenly threw back his head with laughter. "Marg, we have an _antique dealer_ among us!" Just as quickly, Ramstag's expression turned serious. He leaned in to Picard. "What is your name, human?"

"Bill," said Picard. "Bill Clarkson," he said as casually as possible.

Ramstag sat back and picked up a large three pronged fork from the table. He tapped it on the side of the bowl of stew still just out of Picard's reach. "People who lie to me don't survive very long in my prison," said Ramstag, shifting his eyes up to Picard. "Especially if they are human," he added. Picard said nothing, so the warden continued in a dangerously quiet tone. "You are no antiques dealer. We know you didn't crash on this planet. Whatever remained of that ship was placed there and such an elaborate staging can only mean one thing. You are a Federation spy." Slowly and deliberately he turned the fork over and sunk it into the table.

"That's not true," said Picard, his eyes fixed on the fork. "I'm not a spy," he said feeling incredibly weak and exposed. The last thing he needed at this time was to endure more pain, more torture. He felt himself begin to shiver, despite the heat in Ramstag's office.

Ramstag sighed. "You have made your choice. You have chosen to lie. Do you know I could have any number of convicts in here murder you in exchange for a taste of freedom? If you make trouble for me…_Bill_, I will do what I need to preserve my reputation. Do not misunderstand me," he added darkly.

"Certainly not," said Picard.

Without another word, Ramstag pushed the bowl in Picard's direction with such force that it nearly slid off of the table. Picard caught it as if his life depended on it, which perhaps it did. He lifted the bowl and began greedily drinking the savory liquid without a care as to what was in it.

Ramstag stood up with a rumble. "I wouldn't eat too fast. That might be the last enjoyable meal you have in Rura Penthe," he said striding from the room.

* * *

The first day that Picard was placed in the general prison population he immediately saw how invaluable Catia could be. In the mess hall, she pointed out which prisoners were considered weak and which ones were politically connected to the warden. He learned quickly who to avoid, although generally that meant avoiding everyone. Nearly a week went by and he saw absolutely no sign of Guinan. Of course he hid his search from Catia and asked no questions of anyone. He saw his first few arena matches and was alarmed by the almost frenzied nature of the crowd, made up of both prisoners and guards.

One day in the mess hall he met a man with one eye; he supposed this was the man Darai had said he should "make contact with". The man appeared to be the prison cook and he seemed uninterested in making friends as he slopped a ball of gelatinous food into his bowl. The second time he saw the cook, he subtly rolled up his sleeve to show the man the tattoo on his arm. Walker had said it would help him to identify who was friendly and who was not. The man looked at the tattoo and then directly into Picard's face for the first time. He had an expression which seemed to say he did not appreciate the attempt to communicate, and again slopped the greyish food into Picard's bowl with studied disinterest.


	38. Chapter 38

That night at the arena he saw her for the first time in over a year. She looked tired, smaller than she had, but his heart beat faster with the simple joy of seeing his friend alive. She made eye contact, but quickly looked away, as he mouthed her name "Guinan" silently to himself. He looked behind him searching for Catia, but she had disappeared again; she had a knack for disappearing when he least expected it. His eyes searched again for Guinan. He caught sight of her as she moved into the crowd, and is if magnetized he got up from his seat and was drawn in the direction she had disappeared in.

He tried to look for her without being obvious, but eventually he gave up and turned his attention back to the fight. Two wiry human prisoners were tangling with each other, each looking as tired as the other. Finally the two men collapsed in the sandy ring and rested there until the guards dragged them off of the floor. The crowd burst into a chorus of boos and disapproving whistles. Clearly the fight had not produced the desired results.

As he began to wind in with the crowd of prisoners, he kept his head down, his only intention to keep out of trouble. Suddenly a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around. Suddenly facing him was the one eyed cook, who grabbed Picard's left forearm and twisted it up into the light. The crowd of prisoners began to murmur, and to Picard's ears it sounded like a strange buzzing.

He tried to retrieve his arm, but the old Klingon's grip was like iron. Still grasping Picard's arm so that the three ringed tattoo was visible, the old cook stepped to the side, and behind him, was a huge hooded figure, standing about a foot taller than Picard. The figure threw back his hood, and Picard could see that the man was only part Klingon. Was he also part human? An interesting mix, yet Picard felt suddenly that he had greater problems to worry about than the ethnicity of this person.

The man stepped forward and held out his forearm and sure enough the tattoos matched. Picard felt as though he was on display and suddenly somehow this meeting was not going at all as he had expected. The tall man raised his forearm higher, and before Picard could back up, and while still in the grip of the cook, smashed his fist directly into Picard's face. Picard turned away at the point of impact, but he still felt his lip split open and both felt and heard his teeth loosen on the right side of his jaw. He felt the now familiar feeling of pain and blood, and the world went slightly grey.

He fell to his knees, as the cook let him go, and immediately he struggled to his feet unsteadily. Before he could react, his Klingon/Human attacker had caught him under the armpits as though he was a bag of dirt and simply tossed him into the nearest wall. Prisoners scattered out of the path of the careening human. Picard felt his head crack against the wall and knew immediately that he had suffered another concussion. Somehow he remained conscious, as bleary eyed he stared up into his attacker's face as the man came closer. Picard tried to raise his arms defensively, but they didn't respond. A hammer was pounding against his inner skull. The man reached down and gripped Picard's shirt in his hands.

"I have been waiting for more than one year in this hell hole and this—this is what they send me for help?" The man's voice was a whisper but the rage was undeniable as he gripped Picard's flimsy shirt in his huge hand.

"Volka!" shouted the harsh and familiar voice of the warden from behind them. The huge man spun around to face Ramstag, and a clear hatred shone in his eyes. The warden confidently held some type of electric shock device in his hand. Whatever the weapon was it was known to the prisoners, because they pulled aside in a wide swath to allow Ramstag his space. Picard lay against the wall, and could see the warden through Volka's legs. Somehow he had the presence of mind to pull his left shirt sleeve down to cover his tattoo. The thing had brought him enough trouble tonight already, and somehow he knew his life would not improve if Ramstag were to see it.

"Keep your nasty toy away from me Ramstag," snarled Volka, standing his ground but keeping his gaze on Ramstag's weapon.

"That prisoner has had enough," said Ramstag, charging up the odd looking baton. It emitted a high whine and glowed with a blue electric charge. Volka took a look down at Picard and his lips curled into a cruel smile. Turning back to Ramstag he shrugged, and stepped out of the way. Ramstag moved in closer and stared down at Picard for a moment. "Get this prisoner back to his cell," he ordered.

Picard felt himself lifted to his feet by strong arms. His legs immediately gave way like rubber, which elicited laughs from the crowd of prisoners. Angrily, he staggered back up to his feet, his head burning, and the guards grabbed his arms again. He spit a bloody tooth onto the ground.

"Volka, don't you forget who is in charge of this place," growled Ramstag, still pointing his baton at the prisoner.

Volka shrugged off the threat. "If you have a problem with me, Warden, take it up with my handler," he said gesturing in back of him. Picard focused his gaze on the figure standing behind Volka, and with immense shock recognized Guinan standing arms folded with a calm expression upon her face.


	39. Chapter 39

Later in his cell, Catia studied Picard with open curiosity. For the most part he ignored her staring, but she was beginning to wear him down. "Where the hell did you go anyway?" said Picard testily, wiggling another loose tooth. He winced. Even the slightest of movements sent a wave of agony through his skull. He carefully lay down on his bunk. "You always seem to disappear just before something happens," he grumbled.

"Did you miss me?" asked Catia slyly.

"Well, I could have used a bit of assistance back there. Perhaps a warning that Volka was about to try and kill me…"

"Strange, I thought you to be the type who wouldn't want any help, Bill," said Catia.

Picard grumbled something unintelligible and shut his eyes. He was trying to come to terms with the fact that the man Walker had asked him to locate and rescue had turned out to be a cold-blooded murderous beast who apparently wanted him dead. Even worse, was that his long lost friend, a person he had bonded with as a child was apparently supporting Volka in his efforts to kill his way out of prison.

What, he wondered, did Guinan hope to gain from this new venture she was involved with? She was not a violent person; or was she? For the first time he began to really question whether he should have come this far for someone who in reality, he did not really know. Was he so intent on proving his unswerving loyalty to someone, anyone; that he would risk his life for someone who now it seemed might not want to be rescued after all?

He realized that he was alone again due to his own choosing, and that he might never see Jack again. He might never have another chance to explain to Beverly how much she meant to him. For the first time in many years, he felt that he was going to cry, and he didn't care even if Catia saw him. He felt his eyes brim with tears, stinging him because he was so dehydrated, and then let them roll freely down his face and onto his pillow.

* * *

**2367 Enterprise**

It was nighttime and Sickbay had only a skeleton crew on duty. He hadn't wanted to leave sickbay, not now that he knew Guinan was still fighting to stay alive. Beverly had been too tired to argue, and so she found him a small recovery room with a bed in it. "Here Jean-Luc, as long as you are determined to stay here, at least try and get some rest," she said, handing him some blankets as he moved through the doorway.

He took the blankets and lay down on the bed, almost in a fetal position. The haggard look on his face saddened her, and suddenly she felt close to tears. As she turned to leave, he whispered something she could hardly hear. "Jean-Luc?" she asked quietly, walking back to him. The room was quite dark, and she could just make out his shape, still curled up.

"Please stay," he said quietly. She looked down at him, then back at the door, and then activated the door lock mechanism before she lay down next to him. The bed was meant for one patient only, and although they were both slim, there was little space between them. To her slight surprise, he reached back to take her hand and wrapped her arm over his torso so that she could not help but spoon him with her body. Not knowing what to do with her hand, she kept it gently on his stomach. His breathing was shallow and quick. Arranging her pillow with her other hand, she tried to relax. Her nose rested against the back of his neck and she allowed herself for the first time in years to inhale his scent. She felt her body instantly warm and yet she moved closer to him, feeling her hips rest against his body. The sensation of her breath on his neck seemed to cause him to begin rubbing her hand softly as she continued to rest it on his stomach. She tightened her arm around him slightly, and he continued his gentle rubbing. Her lips were so close to him that it seemed only natural that she should kiss him lightly at the base of his neck, but then one kiss led to several kisses, and then it was as if she was no longer in control of her own body anymore, and fate had finally intervened. He gripped her hand and moved it lower to his waistline as she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. With a soft sigh he turned over to face her and then there was really no going back. Not this time.


	40. Chapter 40

**2348 Rura Penthe**

"What are you doing here, Picard?" Her tone carried more of an accusation than a question.

Picard turned from eating his gruel to look up at Guinan, who was just sitting down beside him at a noisy table. "Bill is the name…and you act as though I am interrupting your fun. Had I known you were having such a bloody good time here, I would have left you alone," he said in a low voice.

"Good time? Oh you misunderstand, if you think I could be happy here in this place…Bill."

Picard slammed his fist onto the table. The noisy conversations quieted somewhat and then returned to their previous levels almost immediately. Picard glanced around him. Catia was nowhere to be seen. "I came to help you get out of here Guinan. I should have helped you when you asked me for assistance over a year ago."

"And so you came to this shit hole? You may have skills where you're coming from, but you are out of your element here."

"We'll see about that," he said.

She sighed and glanced around her. "Unfortunately, I think we will," she muttered. "Listen, the warden—"

"Ramstag?"

"Yes, Ramstag. He has it in for me. He had me in solitary for two days before I first saw you here. And if he finds out we're friends your life won't be worth much."

"Can't get much worse," said Picard sipping his lukewarm metallic-tasting water. "He already thinks I am a Federation spy."

Guinan smiled in a familiar sly way, and for a moment he felt a stab of affection for her in the way he used to. "Then it sounds like we have nothing to lose. Meet me in the south corridor near the entrance of the arena tonight." He nodded, feeling an exhilaration he hadn't felt since he had arrived at the prison. She disappeared quickly into the crowd. Before he could return to his meal, Picard felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Catia staring at him with a strange grin.

"Good news, Bill," she said with a low hissing sound. "I've arranged your first fight."

* * *

"Who the hell said anything about fighting?" demanded Picard, glaring down at Catia as he paced his cell later that evening. She seemed oblivious to his displeasure. "Oh that's right, _I_ did; I said I wasn't _interested_ in fighting," he snapped answering his own question. Catia's violet eyes followed him around curiously.

"Bill, you can't back out now," warned Catia, "the fight has already been fixed."

"Then un-fix it" he replied, throwing himself onto his bunk.

For an odd moment, Catia's huge eyes seemed to turn a golden hue, before turning back to their usual violet. He sensed in her a quiet danger, the same he had felt that first night he had been greeted by her glowing eyes. "Bill, you don't realize what can happen to a prisoner who backs out of a challenge. You will lose face, and it will be open season on you."

Picard stared at her for a few tense moments, then leaned forward palming his face in his hands. He questioned for perhaps the 100th time, what he had gotten himself into. "I have no intention of killing anyone," he said with some resignation. Catia shrugged, unconcerned. "Who am I fighting?"

"A nasty looking Orion, who wants out of this place badly" said Catia, licking her lips, pleased that he had acquiesced. "But I'm told his knees are weak. You will just have to test the truth of that theory out, Bill. You fight tomorrow night."

Picard lay down with a sigh and shut his eyes.

* * *

Picard met Guinan later that evening as planned. He told her about the fight that Catia had set up. At first she had seemed puzzled at the mention of his cellmate, but then she focused on the fight itself. She knew the Orion, and gave him some tips. Her face remained blank at his mention of Catia again, although the physical description Picard provided appeared to amuse her.

"Really," said Guinan. "Strange I have never met this Catia person. You will have to introduce us," she remarked. At that moment, she turned slightly in back of her, and cleared her throat. An immense cloaked figure stepped from the shadows. Picard fought a wave of fury, when he laid eyes on Volka for only the second time. His lip was still swollen and his head still pounding from their last encounter. Guinan seemed to sense his unease, and stepped in between them.

Picard folded his arms over his chest and exhibited his best stony glare. Volka pulled back his hood. "Forgive my earlier behavior…Captain," he said with an unexpectedly calm voice. "I have been in this place for too long and my habits have become…uncivilized."

"That is a very diplomatic way of admitting that you have murdered many times over since coming to this place," Picard said harshly. "Tell me Volka, or whoever you are; why should I assist you to escape this prison, when by all accounts you have earned your way to remain here?"

Volka glowered at him. "Neither Guinan nor I _came_ here. We were captured by Darok and brought here against our will."

Picard's eyes narrowed. "Oh? I was told you were on Darok's ship intentionally, and Starfleet simply lost track of you once you arrived here. Starfleet feared you dead. So now that I know you still live, perhaps I should leave you here to continue your murderous adventures?"

"Murder," Volka scoffed at the term, which he considered too harsh to describe his activities in the prison. "Had you been in my position you might have done the same, Picard. Assuming you were capable of doing what needed to be done, that is…."

"I'm not a murderer, Volka, but I assure you…"

"Look," interrupted Guinan calmly. "All of the male bravado you two have to offer is not going to get us out of here. We need to use our brains."

"Darai told me to make a connection with the man with one eye, who I assume is the same man who introduced us the other night," said Picard. "And by _introduced_ I mean you punched me in the face and tossed me against a wall," he added drily, turning back to Volka who in turn smiled down at him with a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Guinan nodded and glanced up at Volka. "Odds are, that's him. But the cook has made a bunch of money from Volka's arena successes, and doesn't want to lose him. For that reason he's not likely to just help us escape unless something is in it for him," she said.

Picard glanced around behind him, but the coast remained clear. "According to Darai the cook is aligned with her and will give her some kind of signal whenever we are 'ready' so to speak. My suggestion is that we simply approach him and see what happens. What do we have to lose?"

Guinan frowned. "Well for one thing, we could be exposed if it turns out he is not who we think he is. If he is loyal to Ramstag, Ramstag will not hesitate to throw us out in the snow to freeze to death." Picard shuddered at the prospect.

"I will go to him," said Volka. "He's less likely to try and kill me." Pushing past Picard, he walked out to join the rest of the arena crowd.

Picard watched him leave and then turned back to Guinan. "What is his game?" he asked her slowly.

Guinan fixed him with a serious stare. "Same one we have—to get out of here alive."

"Yes, but do you trust him?"

Guinan smiled thinly. "The only person I can still trust is you, Picard. I trust that you will always find a way to do the right thing. And believe me that means something. Because I can't even trust myself anymore."


	41. Chapter 41

Somehow he had beaten the Orion. His opponent had been so desperate that he had been nearly out of control the entire match. This had allowed Picard to stay low and strike at the Orion's weak points; and yes, as it turned out the Orion had very weak knees. At the end of the fight, Picard had barely been able to stand, and the chants of "finish him" over and over hardly registered with the pounding in his ears. The Orion was not close to death certainly, but he was just barely conscious, which had been good enough for Picard to claim victory and also some semblance of what passed for respect in this place.

As he lay on the cool floor of his cell that night bruised and battered, he kept his eyes shut and struggled to conjure up pleasant images in his mind. Invariably, the ones he settled on were of Beverly Crusher laughing, or Beverly Crusher smiling at him or even scolding him. Really, it didn't matter, because any image of her was a tool he used to carry himself through this ordeal. In order to stay sane in this place, she became an endless source of replenishment for him. If he survived and returned to the free world, then he told himself, he would go back to having the requisite amount of guilt when thinking of Beverly Crusher. Until then he would feel no guilt because he needed to think about her like he needed to eat and drink.

Catia sat in the dark on her bunk. She had said little to him following his fight with the Orion. He had expected she would be pleased that he had won, but instead she seemed pensive and even puzzled. "Why didn't you kill the Orion when he was weakened? It would have been so easy to do."

Her question was almost innocent, and yet there was intensity in her tone and in the focus of her violet eyes, when he opened his own to meet her gaze. A shimmer of gold seemed to float around her in the dark.

"I told you, Catia, I'm not a murderer," he murmured, and closed his eyes again.

"What is that prevented you from killing that Orion? He wanted to kill you after all."

Picard laughed in a low voice. "It's called morality. Surely you've heard of it," he said.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I've heard it mentioned in certain circles. But tell me, do you let this morality guide everything that you do?"

"It's not a matter of _letting_ anything…I simply try to do what seems to be the right thing, but not always. Sometimes I act selfishly or out of ignorance and my actions affect others negatively. Not to sound trite, but I am only human, after all."

"So is that explanation supposed to justify the cruelty that humanity is so often capable of exhibiting?"

"No of course not," he said propping himself up on his elbows. "And by the way: I don't speak for all of humanity," said Picard with a touch of outrage.

"Well, you'd better be on the ball with this morality thing my friend, because one day you just might have to."

* * *

Picard awoke to a stiffness and soreness in his limbs that nearly made him lie back down. But after several weeks in this prison, he knew that to move around was a luxury, and despite his soreness, he lifted propped himself up on his elbows and blinked as the light streamed into the cell. His shirt was pulled up in a disheveled way and he could see his still healing wounds from the attack in the cave. They still hurt but no longer hindered his movement. For the first time he noticed that he must have lost a considerable amount of weight. The muscles in his stomach stood out almost grotesquely and his ribs were showing. Pulling down his shirt and yawning, he stood to his feet slowly and noted for the first time that Catia was not on her bunk. He glanced around in surprise as though he might find her hiding somewhere in the tiny space, but she simply was not there.

Picard sat alone in his cell with a renewed focus on his goal; escaping Rura Penthe. Volka had established contact with the cook, and determined that he was loyal to Darai, who it happened, was a rival of Ramstag the prison warden. The cook was already aware that he would need to communicate with Darai who would in turn provide some kind of support, although this was still unclear. The cook was also expecting a big payoff if he played his role as expected.

Gradually a plan came to him. The biggest problem was communicating the plan to Darai, who was presumably reachable through the cook. If Darai was aware of the details of the plan and followed through, then they might be able to pull it off. There were multiple holes in his plan, however, and really if one part of the plan failed, they would be hard pressed to carry it through successfully.

He met with Guinan over the next few weeks walking through each step of the plan. Volka would obtain a chemical mixture prepared by the cook. The chemical, if all worked well, would simulate death, slowing down the heart rate, and lessening the amount of air required for minimal survival. Guinan passed the information to Volka to avoid the perception that Picard and Volka were allied somehow.

If anyone thought they were less than enemies, the plan would fail. Volka would drink the cooks' mixture. Picard and Volka would battle and Picard would miraculously "kill" Volka, at which point he would have a chance to spin the wheel. The guard who was tasked with spinning the wheel had already been paid off by Darai through the cook, to ensure that the wheel landed on the number one. Picard would be freed, which is where the plan became more difficult. The three were forced to trust that the cook was communicating with Darai, because without her, Volka and Guinan would continue to be imprisoned. According to the cook, Darai would be in orbit in exactly seven days.

As the day grew closer Picard grew more restless. He had never wanted to leave a place more than this prison. Even when he had been a boy and dreaming about leaving his hometown; even that did not compare to the desperation he was beginning to feel in Rura Penthe. On the seventh day, as he shuffled through the food line to receive his ball of mush for the day, the cook gave him a little more food than normal. Surprised, Picard glanced up at him, and the cook broke into a hideous smile. "She's here," he crowed happily. Picard could not help but smile back, despite the fact that the cook repulsed him.

That night Picard bumped into Volka as planned, and a challenge was laid. The cook passed Volka the chemical vial with his lunch and the plan was in motion. The fight promoter confirmed with Guinan that the match was set for that evening.


	42. Chapter 42

**2348 Rura Penthe**

At first Picard wondered if the fight would feel real, since the outcome was already determined. However, when he saw Volka that evening, with an authentic look of bloodlust upon his face, it all became real very quickly. According the cook, the liquid had been mixed so that it would set in after about 10 minutes. Ten minutes was a long time to be in the ring with a brute like Volka, or anyone for that matter. Picard hoped that by the time Volka passed out, he would still be conscious himself.

As the two prisoners circled each other, the crowd began to chant, "Volka, Volka," and it was clear who the favorite was. Bets were being made frantically behind the scenes, and most of them involved how quickly Picard would be killed. Volka made the first aggressive move, swinging two quick but wild punches at Picard, who narrowly dodged them. He was already beginning to see that the height difference might actually work to his advantage, because he was quicker. His greatest threat though was fatigue. He wasn't receiving nearly enough nutrition to keep up his endurance, which was something he needed badly as he danced around the sandy fighting ring.

He allowed himself to lose focus for a few seconds and paid dearly for it, as Volka connected with his right ear. He felt and heard a sickening reverberation, and went down on one knee stunned, clasping his hand over his ear. As he pushed himself up, he lunged to the right, but couldn't avoid Volka's enormous boot, which connected with his ribs with a crack.

Scrambling out of the way, chest heaving, he began to question everything about this plan. Was Volka actually going to try and kill him? He glanced behind him, and saw Volka reaching his arms out to try and catch him. Using his forward momentum Picard planted his hands on the ground and thrust his leg back kicking Volka in the throat as the Klingon brought his weight down fully. The crowd roared with delight. As Volka fell to his knees clutching his neck, Picard grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into his opponent's eyes. The crowd booed. Volka screamed enraged, and clawed at his eyes. Picard backpedaled, using the opportunity to put some distance between them. His ribs were in agony, and his ear was still ringing, but at least he had a chance to take a few breaths.

Volka ran at him with a renewed fury, and Picard could only duck and throw his hands up to defend. When he raised his head, Volka immediately drew back and threw an uppercut that caught Picard along his jawline. Picard spun away, trying to lessen the impact, but the blow was heavy. The crowd cheered. Turning back to Volka, he threw a flurry of punches at Volka's torso, but the man was hardly fazed. Volka laughed and threw an elbow at the same area of Picard's jaw he had hit moments ago. Picard felt it crack, as he involuntarily spun away and onto the ground. Heaving, he felt nauseous and retched, but nothing came up, his stomach was nearly empty as it was.

He felt Volka standing over him, and feeling a spurt of energy he stood up and threw his elbow into Volka's solar plexus. Volka coughed and backed up as Picard advanced, fists flying. What ensued over the next few minutes was a marathon of clumsy punches back and forth until both men were bruised and bloody. They stopped and stood swaying back and forth on rubbery knees. Suddenly Volka lunged forward and fell onto Picard with all of his considerable weight then suddenly grew still. Picard heaved him off, and stood to his feet, watching the Klingon's body settle into the sand floor.

The crowd began to murmur. The referee came into the ring, and shoved Volka with his foot. When the Klingon didn't stir, the ref checked for a pulse and found none. Grabbing Picard's harm, he raised it, declaring Picard the victor. Despite the confusion and the pain he felt himself grinning as he swayed unsteadily. The crowd, which had been murmuring its surprise at Volka's fall, began to cheer his demise.

Picard was shoved by the referee over to the giant wheel, and with little ceremony, the guard spun the wheel. As Picard watched it go around and around, he wondered for a moment if it would ever stop. Eventually, the wheel slowed, and sure enough the wheel landed on the number one. The numbers on the wheel were written in Klingon, and Picard had no idea what number it landed on, until he heard the crowd began to chant, again mostly in Klingon. Picard turned to look at the referee. "What are they saying?"

The referee looked at him with a surprised expression. "'Freedom'," he said. "This is your lucky day, Bill."

Picard glanced back to see that Marg, Ramstag's right hand man was dragging Volka out of the ring unceremoniously. Ramstag barked out some orders and Marg prodded Volka with some kind of instrument, which Picard guessed was supposed to determine whether he was actually dead. When the giant form did not move, Marg continued to drag Volka's seemingly lifeless form from the room. Unexpectedly Ramstag moved toward Picard, and grabbing his right arm, suddenly thrust it into the air as if to confirm that he had in fact won. Picard grimaced, feeling his ribs grate together sickeningly. Ramstag suddenly draped his arm around Picard's shoulders and began to walk him out of the room in the direction they had taken Volka.

* * *

As the prison warden walked him into the dark corridor, his heart began to sink into despair. In the ride up in the lift he began to feel that something was not right. It had never been clear how a prisoner was to actually leave the prison, and he could only hope that Ramstag was leading him to a transport off of this planet. Once he was away, he knew Darai would need to move in with her phase of the plan. He told himself to trust in the plan.

And yet a cold spot formed in his stomach and began to spread. He recognized that feeling to be terror. Once they reached ground level, they entered another dark hallway, this one longer than the last. He was still at their mercy, he realized as the warden's arm squeezed him almost affectionately. Suddenly they had reached the end of the corridor. "Do you know how many prisoners have tried and failed to escape the confines of my prison, human? Too many to count to be sure," said Ramstag. "And now, you are about to get your wish. Once I open that door, you shall be a free man." Marg halted in front of them, and dropped Volka's body next to the doorway.

Picard glanced down at Volka's still form in the shadows and for the first time felt something akin to pity for the man. "What are you doing with him?"

Ramstag laughed darkly. "We'll dispose of him like we dispose of all dead men on Rura Penthe. He's going outside." Ramstag nodded at Marg, and before Picard could get out of the way, Marg slammed a heavy fist down on the back of his neck, and everything went black.


	43. Chapter 43

Ramstag hit a green button on the inner door frame and the door slowly slid open. "Come back for this one next," said Ramstag pointing at Volka. Marg picked up Picard's body and walked out into the snowy night hearing the door slam behind him. He wondered if the human would even have a chance to wake up before he froze to death. Probably, Marg reasoned to himself, a human would most likely prefer to just continue sleeping until it was all over. Marg walked a good distance away from the prison gate until he started to grow short of breath.

The human prisoner was very light in weight, but Marg was out of shape, and the icy wind made him want to retreat back inside as soon as possible. After a few more meters, Marg stopped and dropped Picard onto the ground, the snow crunching loudly underneath his unconscious body. Marg turned to walk away, and for some reason hesitated, pulled off his outer cloak and dropped it over the human before turning again to walk back toward the prison.

He'd made little progress before he saw the red transporter beam from a Klingon ship, and watched with shock as seven heavily armed Klingons materialized between Marg and the prison entrance. He knew he would not be able to warn Ramstag properly before they reached the gate, and so he started running toward the group, shouting into his communicator to warn Ramstag of the intruders.

One of the Klingons turned swiftly and leveled a military grade disruptor at him, as he continued running. "Halt!" shouted the invading Klingon, and the rest of them turned around. The lead Klingon was the only one he recognized, and the sight of her literally stopped him in his tracks. He dropped his weapon and put his hands up. If they shot him, so be it, but he couldn't shoot her or anyone affiliated with her.

* * *

"Over here!" shouted Darai, and she motioned him over commandingly. "Open this door," she ordered him.

"He will be armed and waiting with the guards," Marg warned her, nevertheless stepping toward the door.

Darai sneered. "Do as you're told, or else," and the rest of the Klingons encircled him. Marg stood next to the entry sensor and held his eye next to it. The Klingons trained their weapons on the door, as it opened. The corridor was empty save for Volka's body, which lay abandoned by the door. Darai nodded to her soldiers and two of them picked him up.

"Is this how you dispose of a warrior?" Darai stepped up to Marg and glared at him. "What kind of Klingon are you?" she said with disgust. Marg looked down at the floor but said nothing.

She nodded to her followers and they came closer to her. "Bring the body with us," she said and resumed her march down the hallway. To everyone's surprise, they met no resistance. "Some kind of trap," growled Darai suspiciously. She looked at Marg accusingly. "He's down in the depths isn't he? Bring us down there if you wish to live," she ordered him.

"You and your army won't fit in that elevator—especially with that giant," said Marg.

Darai frowned. "Good, you will come with me then," she said shoving him inside the cramped elevator. "The rest of you stay here and guard the dead warrior. Shoot anyone that approaches you."

* * *

Marg led Darai to the arena. In the center stood Ramstag surrounded by his guards. Apparently he had heard Marg's warnings and had prepared well. But as he stepped forward to regard the intruders, shock and surprise molded his features.

"Greetings, Father," said Darai, chin out, as she stepped to meet him.

"My child," he answered looking crestfallen that this particular invader would not be so easy to deal with. "Why have you come?" he demanded in a stronger voice. He glared at Marg as though he had been betrayed.

"I demand that the custom be followed!"

Ramstag looked bewildered. "What…custom?" he asked suspiciously.

"That dead Klingon was indentured to me," she shouted for all to hear. Prisoners began to crowd around to observe whether the strange events of the evening would continue with this confrontation. "I claim his body," she demanded.

Ramstag blinked at her suspiciously. "Darok brought him here—"

"Darok stole him from _me_ and I will have him returned or blood will be spilled, _Father_."

"I see no guards, no soldiers, to fight for you," said Ramstag, sounding more confident.

"They are up there, and have possession of the body. In addition, my ship is in orbit. And if I have to I will kill your guards myself." She grinned.

"How the hell did you get the shield down?" Ramstag again looked at Marg accusingly, but Marg shook his head as if to say "not me".

Darai shrugged. "I have more friends in this prison than you do."

Ramstag knew that she could be bluffing about the soldiers upstairs, but he knew her ship was in orbit. If she had someone on the inside lower the shield once she could have them do it again and she could fire on the prison, even destroy the upper levels with her ship's firepower. He sighed. The sacrifices a parent made for his children.

"You may have the body. But then you must leave."

"Not until the full custom has been observed, father. I want a replacement for my indentured servant."

Ramstag grew purple. "How dare you invade my domain and make demands of me, you selfish child!"

Darai surveyed the room, resting her eyes finally on a particular prisoner. "Her!" Guinan's eyes went wide as Darai pointed at her. Of course it had been part of the plan, but Guinan was starting to question whether the plan could really work, and she actually felt real surprise when Darai identified her. And now Picard had disappeared and she had a feeling all was not well.

As if they had been thinking the same thing, Darai said, "Where is the victor? Has he been given his freedom?" Darai's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Ramstag laughed, but he was not at all happy with Darai's choice. He despised Guinan, in particular for her unwavering calmness in the face of all the suffering he had thrown her way. To think that he might have to set her free, made him clench his teeth furiously. "If you want to kill the one who bested Volka I'm afraid you are too late," Ramstag said with a chilling smile. "He's dead. Marg brought him to the frozen steppes and left him to freeze." A hush went through the crowd of prisoners, and then a low angry murmur started. The realization that they had been fighting for the freedom only to be thrown out in the cold to freeze seemed to collectively settle in on the prisoners all at once.

Without a word, Darai turned toward Marg and shot him through the chest. Ramstag shouted at her enraged, but turned to his right and left as he saw the prisoners closing in on him and his men. He signaled for them to power up their weapons, just as the riot started.

With just one last look back at her father, Darai waved for Guinan to follow her, and began running toward the old fashioned turbo lift.

"Pleasure to meet you in person," said Guinan as they jumped into the lift. "Of course I've followed your work…"

Darai grinned and then screamed into her communicator, as the turbolift shot upward. "Keel! Get the shuttle down here now, Picard is outside. We will meet you at the gates."


	44. Chapter 44

Walker Keel was not the best pilot, but he was proficient, and thankfully a Klingon shuttle was no more complicated to fly than its Starfleet counterpart. His hands flew nervously over the controls, as he entered the atmosphere of Rura Penthe. The shield had been lowered again, but he could see his biggest problem was visibility. An ice storm was raging on the surface of the planet, and how was he supposed to find his friend in all of this.

He skimmed the shuttle just above the surface of the planet and a few times almost ditched it, trying to control the rolling motion caused by the high winds. As he approached the prison, he slowed the shuttle down considerably and turned calibrated the ship's sensors to look for heat. He knew if Picard was out there he was most likely buried already. Walker tried to steel himself to the possibility that Picard was in fact already dead, but could not believe it.

For minutes the sensors showed nothing. But as he shot over a small hill, he heard a bleep come from the monitor. Circling the shuttle back around, he saw what could be a shape of a person surrounded by snow and ice. Setting the shuttle down, he didn't even stop to put on his gear as he jumped out into the storm. He was blown to the ground immediately, and the cold was absolutely painful. He staggered forward almost blindly, and put his hand on the heap in the snow, praying, praying that it was his friend.

The heap stirred weakly, and Walker shouted with joy, barely able to hear himself over the howling wind. He gathered Picard up in his arms, feeling nothing in his hands and face, and staggered back to the shuttle. He gasped as he set his friend down, and almost cried because Picard was hardly recognizable. His face was covered in frozen blood and his pulse was weak but he was alive Feeling pain as his own skin began to warm up, Walker took a blanket and began to rub Picard's skin until the man began to stir. Placing the blanket over him, he hopped back into the pilot's seat and headed off to pick up the others.

* * *

Picard and Guinan sat in the engine room of the _Kragh_. It was the warmest spot on the ship, and they had been sitting there ever periodically since boarding the ship hours ago. Guinan had left and recently returned to sit next to Picard. Mostly they sat in silence. Guinan knew that Picard must be suffering and in pain when he moved his jaw, so she spoke to him only occasionally. He had refused the meager amount of medical care available aboard the ship. Both of them were now used to discomfort and to being held in a confined space, so sitting in the engine room waiting for the next step in the process was fine for both of them.

"Will you come with us? I could contact Starfleet and make a place for you on the ship," Picard said sounding somewhat helpful.

"No," she smiled but shook her head. "What would I do on a starship?"  
"Are you sure? You're a traveler Guinan, and that's what we do aboard the _Stargazer_. Believe me you will never grow bored."

"I believe you Captain. But boring doesn't sound so bad after all we've been through. I've asked Darai to drop me off at the nearest star base. But I have a feeling we will run into one another from time to time. After all as you said we're both travelers… I owe you a great debt, Jean-Luc Picard, and believe me I will never forget that."

Picard smiled and for the first time he stretched his arm out and wrapped it around his friend's shoulders. They stayed that way until Guinan disembarked at the star base and began her new journey.

* * *

Jack Crusher paced nervously around the transporter room. Dr. Stak and two medics stood waiting beside him, but he could see that even Dr. Stak was fidgeting with his med kit in an uneasy way. An hour earlier they had been signaled by Commander Darai of the _Kragh _that her ship would rendezvous with them just outside Klingon territory to. Commander Zev had ordered the _Stargazer_ immediately to the rendezvous point and not knowing what to expect, she had sent Jack and some medical personnel to await the transport. All Jack knew was to expect three to transport over. He had no idea if one of those three would be Picard, or even if he would be alive. He clasped his hands behind his back almost desperately to curb their shaking. "Lt. Commander Crusher, we are receiving the transport signal. Three individuals to beam over."

Jack nodded. "Energize," he said more steadily than he felt. In the next few moments he experienced shock, joy and horror as the three figures materialized on the transporter pad. One of the figures was a hulking Klingon nearly seven feet tall. Jack's instinct at seeing the man was to pull his phaser, but he restrained himself. The man glared at him as he stepped down from the platform, making him momentarily reconsider his decision not to un-holster his weapon. The man was injured and the exposed areas of his skin showed significant bruising. He shoved away the medics.

Walker stepped down from the platform, and he looked well, pretty much as he had when he had left the Stargazer just two months before. Walker gave Jack a small smile almost as if he was trying to reassure Jack that everything was as it had been. But they both knew that it wasn't. And nothing would have prepared Jack for the sight of Picard who looked like a stranger. He was hooded and wearing an oversized cloak, but even beneath the hood, Jack could see the same dark bruises that covered the Klingon. He also wore a beard, and limped slightly. He stopped in front of Jack who was struck by how thin he looked.

"Jean-Luc?" He reached out to touch Picard's shoulder, but the Captain jerked away, moving out of reach almost instinctively. Jack looked at Walker Keel with outrage showing in his eyes. What the hell had happened and where had they been for two months?

"Hello Jack," Picard said in the same baritone voice, but he sounded as if his jaw was clamped shut. "It is good to see you," said the Captain.

"You as well, Captain. Uh…perhaps you should accompany Dr. Stak to sick bay so that we can ensure you are well." Picard stared at him with something akin to confusion, and then embarrassment.

"I assure you Mr. Crusher, I am fine," he said firmly. "Now what I would really like is a shower and perhaps a cup of tea" he said.

Dr. Stak stepped to his side and lowered his voice respectfully. "As soon as you have cleaned up, please report to sick bay Captain. Despite your clever disguise, I can tell just by looking at you that you will need treatment before returning to active duty."

Picard gave Stak a dark look, but acquiesced with a nod. He turned and exited the transporter room headed for his quarters.

Walker looked up at Volka. "My orders were to bring you back in one piece, and so that includes a trip to sick bay for you too," he said in a commanding voice slightly out of character. "I can't have you dying before we get back to headquarters."

Volka did not look pleased at the suggestion. "Your concern is overwhelming," he rumbled.


	45. Chapter 45

After Picard had his first shower and cup of tea in two months he headed to sickbay. Nodding briskly at just a few crew members, he distinctly felt like he was on display, and despite having changed into a fresh uniform, he knew he looked like a stranger to his crew. He hadn't had time to shave, and his face was still so raw and swollen that the prospect didn't really interest him.

When he entered, Dr. Stak and Dr. Crusher were both administering medical care to Volka. Picard felt his legs weaken slightly at the sight of Beverly, but he steeled himself and made his way to an examining table. The nurse ran a tool over his extremities treating the effects of frostbite, and healing his skin. He sat still while a nurse examined his jaw, and shifted his eyes periodically so that he could steal a glance at Beverly. Her frame was still slim, although he could see that her pregnancy was just beginning to show. She was shining a light into Volka's bloodshot eyes when waved her away and in Picard's direction. His heart began to beat faster; fast enough that the nurse glanced down at his tricorder and back up at Picard in mild surprise.

"I'll take over here, Carter, thank you," she said quietly to the nurse, who nodded and handed her the tricorder. Her voice revealed a confidence in her position as a doctor that he hadn't noticed before. Perhaps she had grown into it while he was absent. It had seemed like a year, but only two months had gone by. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and leaned in to lightly touch his jaw. "Well, no big surprise here, but your jaw is broken. I wonder how that happened," she said, tracing an instrument along his jawbone. "Let me fix your jaw first, and then you can tell me all about it."

He attempted to make eye contact with her, but she was all business. He stared at her, but Beverly simply frowned at her tricorder, and adjusted the sensor readings. "You've only got a slight concussion this time. Your head must be getting harder?" Though accompanied by her usual wit, Crusher's tone held little warmth.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me," said Picard with an attempt at levity.

She smiled tightly as she examined his knuckles, which were bruised and cut from repeatedly punching Volka in the face. "Of course I am," she said quietly. She bit her lower lip in what might have been controlled anger. "So, you and…Volka, is that his name? You and Volka both have injuries consistent with having been severely beaten. And you also both have injuries consistent with a person who might have also been the perpetrator."

Picard shrugged. "He looks fine to me," he said looking over at the Klingon.

"His DNA is all over your knuckles and your face, and your blood is literally on his hands. Now are you going to tell me what happened to you?"

"Unfortunately I am under orders not to," Picard answered.

"Of course you are. Now take off your shirt."

"Doctor—"

"I'm under orders to give you medical treatment, Captain," she said coolly. Still glaring at her, he pulled his shirt off slowly, feeling the agony of torn muscles stretching over his bruised ribs.

A slightly audible intake of breath was the only sign Crusher gave to indicate her shock at his appearance. Nearly his entire torso was black and blue. "Two ribs on your left side are broken," she said in a matter of fact way. "Here", she said using a mending tool on his ribs for a few moments. "This should relieve most of your discomfort." "Take a deep breath." Her fingers gently pried at the skin below his ribs. Despite his discomfort, he felt his skin warm at her touch. "What is this?" she grazed the still healing purplish scar just above his hip.

"That's an old wound," he said. "I've already had medical treatment for that," he assured her. She didn't look impressed with what he considered medical treatment. She stood up and folded her arms over her chest.

"What about your leg? Dr. Stak said that he noticed you limping earlier. Let me see," she touched his thigh lightly, and he jerked involuntarily.

"I've seen a doctor for that too."

She sighed and looked away, but still held the scanner next to his leg. "If you would prefer a male doctor…."

"No, and there is no need for anyone else to look at my leg either."

"Fine," she said mildly, but discreetly checked the scanner image, as she fumbled around in her instrument tray. The scanner showed what appeared to be an animal bite, and judging by the size of the bite range, it was a large animal. She suddenly felt nauseous and at the same time struggled to keep her objectivity and control over the situation.

Turning back to him, she handed him a hypo. "This is for the pain. Before I let you go, will you tell me at least one thing?" He nodded warily. "Is your friend alright?"

His face registered some surprise, and then he nodded. "Yes, she's alright. I can only guess how you found out, but thank you for asking."

"You said 'she'?" Crusher's mouth curled into a clever smile.

"Yes, but it's not like that," he said quickly, and almost instantly regretted his anxious tone.

"Jean-Luc, you don't have to explain to me whether it's 'like that' between you and you friend or not. Actually, it's really none of my business." Her eyes held a strange mix of amusement, embarrassment and possibly regret. "I'm just glad that she's okay…for all that you've gone through."


	46. Chapter 46

**2367 Enterprise**

Deanna Troi stood in sickbay with Beverly Crusher and Captain Picard. She had been summoned by them in order to attempt a connection with Guinan to aid her in coming back to the living world. The mood was grim, and in order to focus on the task at hand, Deanna had to ignore that there was also some new kind of tension between Picard and Crusher that pervaded the cramped hospital room. At one point she had actually asked them to step out of Guinan's room because the jumble of feelings between them was so distracting and confusing. Of course she hadn't told them the real reason.

Finally she felt she had reached Guinan. It was clear that she wanted to survive, but there was also something in her mind that continued to express that she believed this moment was inevitable. Deanna felt Guinan sensed her presence and though she felt grateful for the aid, she continued to hold something back from Deanna. But in the instant that she told Deanna "Picard must never know the whole truth," the secret that she had so desperately wanted to keep, was suddenly revealed in a rush of emotion and memories, which almost physically knocked the counselor over. In the space of seconds, Guinan's tortured history with the Borg, and Q and her tender yet complicated connection with Picard were laid bare for Deanna to experience. And then suddenly she opened her eyes, with a gasp as the delicate connection was severed.

Before she could register her surroundings fully, she felt Picard and Crusher steady her with firm hands. Initially she thought the light was an afterimage from her intense experience moments before, but then she saw that Picard and Crusher saw it too; that now familiar white flash.

All three blinked at once, and eyes widened with alarm at the sight of Q standing over Guinan with a strange expression on his face. The purple cloud which had shielded her for the last few days instantly dissipated and as though her life support had been cut, the machines by her bedside began beeping with urgency.

Crusher was instantly in motion. "She's destabilizing!"

"Q, leave her alone! What the hell are you doing?" shouted Picard moving toward the being quickly. Q held up his hand casually and Picard instantly froze in place. Beverly quickly scanned him with her tricorder. He was fine, but immobilized.

"Collecting on a debt," answered Q in a sober voice. Guinan's eyes snapped open, and as she stared up at Q with something more than simple recognition, it seemed she was the only one in the room who wasn't surprised to see him.

"Let's get it over with," she whispered, and yet somehow her voice still held strength as she locked eyes with Q. Q leaned over her and the two began whispering rapidly to each other in quiet verbal combat. Neither Deanna nor Beverly could hear the exact words. Picard remained frozen in mid-step, inches from Q and Guinan. Deanna strained to re-establish her mental connection with Guinan, but it was clear that Guinan was using every ounce of her energy to deal with Q, and her mind was closed to Deanna.

Suddenly the room darkened, and whispers of electricity crackled around Q and Guinan. Just as suddenly, the lights returned to normal, and Q stood up straighter and stepped back from the bed. Beverly and Deanna stepped forward cautiously and with shock and delight saw that for the first time in weeks, the ship's bartender was sitting upright in her hospital bed. A healthy color had returned to her face and she was smiling.

Picard was suddenly released from his immobile state, and caught himself on the back of a chair to steady himself. He had just witnessed the most bizarre spectacle between Q and his friend and then suddenly, she was fine. He went to her side and knelt down. "Welcome back to the world."

Guinan returned his warm smile. "I've never been so glad to be back," she said. Crusher gently maneuvered Picard out of the way so that she could examine her patient.

"Amazing," breathed Crusher, studying her tricorder. "Guinan, you are as good as new—or at least, it's as though you were never even ill. Even so, I'll keep you here for a few more tests, if you don't mind." Guinan just turned a smile her way in answer. Even if she had minded, she knew better than to argue with Beverly Crusher.

Picard turned his attention to Q, who was still standing in the room and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Captain, I suppose you are interested in lecturing me…." announced Q, striding out of sick bay without another word. Still stunned by what had occurred and yet burning with curiosity, Picard followed him out the door.

* * *

"Q, why are you here and what is your involvement with Guinan?" Q and Picard stood across the room from each other on the observation deck. Q's expression held the same infuriating smirk he had witnessed when they had first met on the way to Farpoint station several years ago, and on every occasion on which they'd met since then.

"Picard, you always attempt to eject me from your ship as quickly as possible as though I am some run of the mill alien you can easily dismiss."

"Q if there is one thing I have learned about you is that you are hardly 'run of the mill'. Having said that; I _would_ like you to exit my ship right after you have answered my question."

Q shrugged. "A long time ago she and I made a deal. Guinan thought she had backed out of the deal, but she was mistaken. " He sighed. "Recently I began to wonder if I still wanted to carry through on the deal, and ultimately I decided to call it off, which explains why she is still breathing. As you humans would say, Guinan and I have history. But then…so do you and I Picard."

"It's hardly the same thing," Picard scoffed.

"Isn't it?" questioned Q. He paced over to the viewport and looked out into the stars. "If there is one thing you should have learned throughout your years of traveling, Picard, is that everything and everyone is connected. Even you and I are connected, as much as you would hate to admit it."

Picard, despite his dislike for Q, stepped to the viewport beside him. "What are you talking about?"

"Picard I knew I liked you the moment I met you," said Q with a smile.

"I see. And that is why you put me and the rest of humanity on trial three years ago?"

Q's expression softened slightly as he watched the stars drift by the ship's hull. "No, but that is why I tripped you," he said easily.

Picard frowned. "What?" he said clearly puzzled. Somewhere in the back of his head, his memories were stirring.

"I wonder-would you have won that race all those years ago, had I not tried to trip you and made you determined enough to win?" He turned with a slow grin to look at Picard.

To say that Picard felt shock would be an understatement. "You—we first met less than three years ago," he said as though to remind himself. "On the way to Farpoint…" he trailed off in confusion.

"How true," said Q. "But didn't we also meet in a cave on an ice planet?" Picard fixed him with an intense expression. "Or was it in a prison?" offered Q innocently. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over and sat down on the long obsidian table.

Picard laughed shakily despite his shock and confusion as he began to pace around the room. "I don't know how you learned all of this about me Q, but you are trying my patience."

"Picard, I won't expect you to so easily overcome your denial. Perhaps this is too much for your human mind to fathom. However, the next time you are elated that you've succeeded, or depressed that you have failed, is it too much to ask that you consider the possibility that your destiny may be too significant to be left only for your flawed human mind to control?"

"My destiny? What is your game Q?"

"Same as it has always been, Jean-Luc. And it's only just beginning. Au revoir…." He snapped his fingers and with a brief flash he was gone.


	47. Chapter 47

**Epilogue**

Picard sat at the bar with a glass of wine. Guinan stood behind the bar, intermittently chatting with him while cleaning up. It was late and the last few patrons had trickled out of Ten Forward. Meanwhile, Picard sat deep in thought. It was hard for him to believe, but what if Q was telling the truth and that some of the most significant events of his life had actually involved Q?

Q was right at least that Picard often assumed that he had more control over a situation than he actually possessed. It was a character trait that in reality probably served him well as a ship captain. But was he to believe that Q had somehow guided him through certain points in his life? And to what end? He had mentioned some but not all of his conversation with Q to Guinan. He could see that she understood what the gist of the conversation had been about. It was just as clear that she was uncomfortable with the topic, and they both fell silent.

"Captain," she said finally, approaching him and re-filling his nearly empty glass. "Remember all those years ago, how extensive your wounds were when you reached the prison, and how you told me that you never would have survived had it not been for the prison doctor's ministrations? Well I saw your scars for myself and I know for a fact you must have been near death when you reached the prison."

"And?" prompted Picard quietly.

"And…Rura Penthe had no doctor," she said just as quietly.

Picard sighed and sipped his wine. Slowly a smile spread over his face. "I don't suppose the prison population included a giant talking cat either," he suggested.

Guinan smiled back with a shake of her head. "Nope," she said simply. She looked up at the sound of soft but quick footsteps. "You have a visitor," she mentioned, as Beverly Crusher approached. "So I think I will say goodnight," she said with a knowing smile. She pulled the half empty wine bottle from under the counter and placed it in front of him before she walked away.

Picard watched her as she stopped for a moment to speak with Beverly. He couldn't hear quite what was being said, but could tell Beverly was asking how Guinan's health was as she touched her arm gently before they parted ways. Picard got up from his seat as Beverly came closer. She smiled warmly. "Oh don't get up for me," she said, sitting down beside him. He sat back down and poured her some of the wine. They clinked glasses, making a silent toast. She took a sip and they sat in silence for a few more moments.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you…" she trailed off uncomfortably as she noticed he was looking down at the surface of the bar.

He looked up to see her struggling with the words and with a bold gesture he took her hand in both of his and looked into her eyes. "Ask me what?"

"About the other night," she answered somewhat shakily. "Are you…sorry it happened?" She studied his face cautiously. After all, it had been only a week ago that he had said to her he wanted nothing more than to be her friend, but then suddenly the other night everything had changed.

His face reddened slightly. "Of course not…are you?"

She laughed and reached out to touch his face gently. "No, no I'm not sorry at all. But I can't say I wasn't surprised by your interest. I-I think we just needed each other that night Jean-Luc, and if you want to leave it like that, I can accept it."

Still holding her hand, he bowed his head, staring at the countertop. "Yes, I needed you that night. But Beverly I have always needed you." He heard her gasp. He raised his gaze to meet hers again, and her face was so open, that the words just came out of him like a flood. "You asked me last week if I ever thought about how we always seem to find each other no matter the circumstances. Of course I have. Beverly, there was a time when I first met you that a part of me actually believed we were meant to be together. But you were with Jack. And then when the reality sunk in and I knew that we couldn't be together, I tried not to think of you at all because it was so painful. But there was never a time when I ever stopped wishing on some level that we could be together, or that you would care for me the way I cared for you. It is just that the timing was never right."

"Timing has always been a problem for us," she admitted. "But neither of us can blame Jack anymore for being the reason for the barrier between us. I do believe he would want us to be happy, Jean-Luc."

"Yes, I think he would."

"Well then," said Beverly Crusher, grasping his hand. "Shall we give it a try then?"

**The End**


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